Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “You are more vexing than I recall,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to offer a cutting retort, but another gunshot from the distance led me to grip the back of Nicholas’s jacket instead. I dropped my hands immediately, trying my best to balance with minimal contact with Nicholas. It served to clear my head and enable me to focus on the issues at hand.

  “Where are you taking me?” I glanced over my shoulder. The trees swayed behind us, a crisp chill penetrating my traveling cloak.

  “A safer place.” His voice was barely a mutter, almost impossible to hear above the whistle of the wind. I had never been in the woods at night, much less alone with a man. If we were seen by any person of status or interest, my reputation would be ruined.

  “Do you care to elaborate?” I asked through the darkness.

  “No.”

  With a huffed breath, I turned my attention to the sky, studying the constellations. One of them was shaped like a hat. My hat. The one Mr. Connor had so kindly given me and invested hours of delicate work in. Certainly the hat-constellation was a delusion, but it awakened a sense of dread—I had lost all of my belongings to the highwaymen. All that remained was the hat and a reticule half full of small coins. How was I to find my way to Rosewood now? And what when I arrived? I had nothing to wear but the clothes on my back. My eyes burned with tears and a slew of deep emotion boiled in my chest. Anger burned a hole through it all. If not for Nicholas and his accomplices, I would have found my way to Dover without complication. I could have achieved something on my own. Nicholas had proven my parents right. How dare he presume to keep me out of danger now, when he had been the sole reason I was in danger in the first place?

  “Please take me to the nearest inn,” I said.

  “That would not be a safer place.”

  “How so?”

  He let out a long, slow breath, and I suspected he would say nothing at all. “How might the innkeeper react as you, a respectable lady, arrive disheveled as you are, on the back of a horse with a man in the middle of the night. You do see how your reputation could not survive such an appearance, do you not?”

  My pride flared. “Would you prefer that we be seen emerging from the trees at dawn in the same situation by the people of the nearest village? I daresay the latter would cause more of a stir.” I bit my lip against saying anything more.

  He seemed to be contemplating my words. I pushed a low, drooping branch away from my side as we came around another tree. A bead of water met my cheek, then another on my arm. Rain was the last thing I needed to make my night complete. It served as a prompt reminder of my misfortune.

  “I have little money, no possessions, and now I have been abducted.”

  “Rescued,” he corrected.

  If I had known my mischief would lead me to this moment I could have spent another year in Craster without complaint. If only my chance at a season had come a year before, when the things I cared for most were dancing, fashion, and handsome gentlemen. Handsome, single gentlemen.

  “To my knowledge highwaymen do not rescue. They steal, hurt, and endanger innocent people. What could have possibly compelled you to participate in such a nefarious practice?” The horse buckled as we crossed a hole in the ground. I lurched forward, gripping Nicholas’s shoulder with a screech. I flicked my fingers over his jacket as if I were clearing a bit of dust, rather than clinging for my life. A crack of thunder pulsated through the air, calling both our eyes heavenward. Lightening cut the sky into two jagged lines of dark glass. Soon the trees joined the chorus of rain, rustling their leaves with the weight of thousands of drops.

  “Are you all right?” Nicholas cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder. Water soaked through his hair and droplets hung from his lashes. I ducked down, pulling my hat lower on my head. My dress was soaked in a matter of seconds, and the dirt from my cheeks washed down my neck despite the partial shelter my hat offered. My lack of response seemed to be enough, for Nicholas turned his head forward. “The Lucy I once knew also had a propensity for begging information from me that I didn’t wish to give.” He raised his voice to be heard above the storm. The horse moved faster.

  My face tingled with heat despite the rain as I thought of the moment Nicholas was surely thinking of. I had once begged him to tell me the name of the girl he fancied when he was fifteen, even to the point of promising him a week of my desserts.

  I shouted through the rain, “When you keep information inside you it will only grow and spoil and one day you will spew it out to the person you least hope to confide in. In your case, a clergyman, perhaps?”

  Nicholas stiffened, but relaxed into a chuckle. The depth, richness, and charm of his laugh seemed to pull every last scrap of spite from me like flames wicking moisture from the air. How wonderful a fire sounded at this moment. I shuddered with the cold. We had no other option now but to stop at an inn. My heart thumped. What a hobble I had gotten myself into.

  “I understand, Lucy, that my actions appear wicked, but you don’t know where I have been, what has led me to those men. I am not proud of it, but for my purposes I find nothing to regret. At this moment, I simply need you to trust me.”

  “What does your wife think of all this?” I blurted.

  It took me a moment to realize that the horse had stopped walking. Nicholas had turned to face me fully. “That bit of gossip has reached your side of the country, has it?”

  I nodded as another shiver took hold of me. I tried to appear nonchalant, as if the news had not affected me the way it had.

  His eyes brimmed with laughter. “It isn’t true.”

  My heart leapt. “What?”

  “I am not married.” He leaned forward and eased the horse to a trot. I almost didn’t hear him between the water in my ears and the shock. I thought I heard him chuckling, but I couldn’t be certain. “Does that come as a relief or a disappointment?”

  My mouth dropped open and I gasped, nearly inhaling a mouthful of rain. I spit to the side and shook my head although he couldn’t see it. “I am disappointed that you would create such a ruse!” I boiled with anger. Did he know that I had suffered over that news for weeks?

  “You’re relieved.”

  “I am most certainly not.”

  “You are going to catch a cold,” he said. “Please, say that you’ll trust me.”

  There was a square of light ahead through the trees, far to the right where the main road curved. The rain blurred the image, but as we neared the square of light, I could make out a rustic brown sign. Unmistakable marks of an inn. My stomach tied itself in knots.

  Nicholas turned his head to look at me again. I expected to see a look of teasing or an impish grin of some sort, but his eyes were clear, inviting, begging me for certainty that I didn’t feel. My mind spun.

  “Why should I trust you?” My voice was colder than I intended—too full of hurt. I couldn’t let him hear it.

  “It is time your adventurous spirit be used to your advantage. But allow me to speak when we enter the inn, and do not protest.”

  Much to my dismay, the rain fell harder once free from the trees. Nicholas led the horse to a post. Before he could offer his hand to me again, I slid down to the ground, stumbling over the weight of my soaked skirts as they tangled between my ankles. I pushed a mound of dark curls away from my eyes and gave what I hoped was a charming smile. But the smile Nicholas gave me wiped it straight off my face and set my heart racing. Why could I not keep my head with the sight of him? It vexed me to no end.

  He quickly removed his jacket and shook out the water before extending it to me. I hesitated, but the shiver that rolled over my shoulders made my decision much easier. I wrapped myself up, grateful that the rain had washed away his scent from the jacket.

  He looked down at me, a hint of amusement crossing his eyes. “You should be grateful it’s rain and not horse water in this instance.”

  Part of me wanted to defend my twelve-year-old honor, but the other side was quite flattered that he had reme
mbered such a trivial thing. I stayed silent, the worry of the situation catching me by the heels.

  After depositing Nicholas’s weapons in a sack with the horse, he took his small trunk of belongings from the side of the horse as well, and we started toward the front doors. Keeping close with his long strides, I followed him to the entrance of the inn, where he pulled the door open and motioned for my entrance. Warm, deep wood covered the parlor on all sides, illuminated by the candles and fireplace. I breathed the smell of fresh baking. My body cried out in exhaustion. I wanted to curl up by the fire and sleep until Kitty and her family grew worried and came to find me here themselves.

  My senses were captured by the sound of a kind greeting. A man had approached behind the bar, eyes crisp and sharp as they took in my disheveled appearance.

  “Welcome. I am Mr. Allington.” He extended a nod without dropping his gaze for a moment. He seemed to cringe at the mud and water that dripped from my skirts onto the clean floors. I peeled my hat from my head and held it at my side, letting the warmth of the room envelop me. The man’s eyes traveled down to the hat in dismay. A heavy dripping sound led me to realize that my hat had collected a fair amount of water that had now spilled onto the floor. “Oh. I’m very sorry.” I took a step to the side as if that would help the situation.

  The man slowly turned his attention to Nicholas, who gave the man a nod. “What a blessing it was to come by such a fine establishment after that spell of weather we encountered.”

  “Oh, yes, a fine, mighty storm that is, to be sure. The pair of you look as though you have been through quite the ordeal. Please let us see to your comfort. How may I make your acquaintance?”

  Nicholas slid his gaze to me. There was that question of trust again, but also a spark of mischief. “My manners have deserted me.” He chuckled, flashed a devilish smile at the innkeeper, and said, “We travel from the North, making way to Dover. Mr. Bancroft and Mrs. Bancroft, pleased to meet you.”

  SIX

  If seeing Nicholas at the previous inn had been a shock, then there was not a word to describe how I felt at this moment. Mrs. Bancroft? My throat was as dry as parchment as I choked out a gasp and threw my gaze to Nicholas. He warned me with a look.

  Nicholas flaunted a smooth face, hiding any remnant of his deception. How many lies had he told? Surely such a performance required practice. It was disconcerting—the way he spoke with such ease and charm, as if his wayward ways came naturally. And how dare he ensnare me in this lie? It affected me and only me. Nicholas was indeed Mr. Bancroft, but I was most certainly not Mrs. Bancroft. But to deny it now would only lead to further questioning, and further ruin. How dare he create such a ruse without informing me?

  There was a spark of humor in Nicholas’s eyes when the innkeeper turned his back. My teeth gritted and I promised him with the darkest look I could manage that he was in for an infamous scolding from me. I imagined how I must have appeared, large eyes narrowed, hair matted and wet, short nose flaring in anger. Why could I not appear fierce and intimidating when I needed to?

  Nicholas just answered with a lift of both eyebrows. If Mr. Allington had not been standing five feet away, Nicholas might have burst into laughter. His lips pressed together before he smiled and cleared his throat. “Have you someone that might attend to my wife? She is quite in need of washing,” his voice fell to a whisper, “and the comfort of a warm fire will likely ease her nerves.”

  I huffed a breath of annoyance.

  Mr. Allington threw him a look of heartfelt understanding. “Of course.” The innkeeper’s thin lips twitched into a forced smile, eyes wide with concern.

  “I would like to purchase two rooms for the night. My wife will need a plentiful rest.” He leaned closer to the man, his voice again dropping to a whisper. “As will I. She often speaks in her sleep. Endlessly. It is not pleasant.”

  I rolled my eyes even as Nicholas flashed me a secretive grin.

  Mr. Allington nodded. “Yes, of course. Allow me to fetch Mrs. Allington. She will assist you in cleaning and dressing and show you to your room.” He was speaking to me now, I realized too late.

  I tried to swallow, but my dry throat turned it into a cough. “Thank you, sir.”

  “It is my pleasure, Mrs. Bancroft.”

  The name grated against my heart like a rough, jagged stone. It was who I had always wished to be. But the name was not mine. This was not real. I flashed my gaze to Nicholas and my stomach sunk to my knees. He had always been the one to censure me for my misbehavior, but it seemed our roles had reversed. My anger burst like a steel bubble in my chest. If he thought he could come away from this unscathed, then he was mistaken.

  My eyes darkened in his direction one last time before a woman rounded the corner behind the bar. Her hair was silvery gray, pulled into a severe bun at the top of her head. Even her stoic expression could not be held with the sight of me. Her brows lifted in disdain.

  Introductions were made, and I was led by the arm up a narrow staircase and into a bedroom. Mrs. Allington did little to hide her disapproval of my supposed husband.

  “My, how could a man presume to drag a lady through such a storm? If Mr. Allington had done such a thing I might have stuck him in the leg with my knitting needles. I do traveling when within the confines of a carriage, but to take such a journey by horseback? How absurd!”

  At first I was surprised by her outspoken behavior, but found myself quite enjoying the conversation when it came at Nicholas’s expense. Mrs. Allington puffed a breath of frustration as she dipped a towel in a basin of warm water and soap.

  “He is a buffle-headed niddicock.” I shrugged. “I did not marry him for any measure of intelligence, that is for certain.” I wished Nicholas was near enough to listen. “He has little to recommend him at all. He is dirty and horrendous and when he is not, he is simply ridiculous.” I tried not to smile at my insults.

  She wrung out the towel and I took it to wipe off my face. She shook her head and lifted one finger to scold me. “He will not always be handsome, you know. His warts and gray whiskers will come faster than the rain fell from the sky tonight and you will have no place to hide and no brooding eyes, smooth skin, and charming smiles to save you.”

  My jaw seemed to unhinge and drop to my chest. I cleared my throat, trying to recollect my thoughts. “Not to worry. I did not marry him simply because he is handsome.” I did not marry him at all, I wanted to add.

  Her hands stilled in the water and she raised her brows for me to continue.

  “Well, I—” My mind was tired. I searched for the things I had once loved about him, but it brought with it a piercing reminder that those days were past. “I find him to be a wonderful friend—even when it does not suit him to give me his time, he always does. He listens to me. He challenges me and makes me feel like I am worth … more than I feel I am. He makes me laugh.” I wanted to deny it all, but I knew every word was true. Whether he wanted it or not, I needed Nicholas back. The former Nicholas.

  Mrs. Allington gripped my wrists and dunked my hands into the water. Then she stood and came behind me to pull the pins from my matted hair. “I see.”

  I expected more of a response, but she seemed intent on keeping silent.

  When my hair was combed and I was dressed in a borrowed nightdress since mine were gone (much to Mrs. Allington’s dismay), I thanked her for her hospitality and climbed beneath the covers of the bed that was tucked against the wall. The moment my eyes closed, my eyelids seemed to be anchored to my lower lashes. I had not an inkling what tomorrow would bring, but at the very least I would have a refreshed mind. I tried my best to look forward to that. What an impossible night this had been. I shook my head against my pillow and attempted to forget Nicholas and the terror of the highwaymen and the cold of the rain. Especially Nicholas.

  Perhaps he would be gone in the morning—perhaps I would never see him again. I opened one eye and smiled, the effort difficult with my cheek pressed to my pillow. Perhaps I had never s
een Nicholas at all. Perhaps this was all a dream. I turned toward the wooden wall and closed my eye again with that flowery, happy thought.

  “Please assure me that you have grown out of your snoring.”

  Both eyes flew open this time and I jerked backward, falling off the other side of my bed in a tangle of blankets, the sound cutting the air in a loud thud. The moment I hit the ground, I bolted upright and stared at the wall from over my bed, hand pressed against my chest. My heart skittered like a trapped mouse. I stared at the wooden wall with wide eyes. Had the voice come from within the wall? It had sounded so clear and close.

  A familiar chuckle came from between the thin wooden boards of the wall. “What the devil was that?”

  Nicholas! My cheeks flared with heat. My eyes flashed to the doorway to ensure my room was closed and locked. What sort of man would try to make conversation with the person, likely asleep, through a wall in the room next door? I squinted at the wall, still unable to believe his voice sounded so clear through it. There were several small gaps between the panels.

  “Did I startle you?” The deep richness to his voice hinted at amusement.

  My voice untangled itself from my racing heart enough to speak. “Based on the noise you just heard, I can assume you know the answer to that question.”

  “I am sincerely sorry, Lucy.”

  But there was nothing about his tone that implied he was sincere at all. In fact, he sounded quite the opposite.

  “How dare you laugh at me?” I stood from my tangled place on the floor and brushed dust from my knees before sitting on the edge of my bed, just far enough from Nicholas’s voice for my heart to feel safe. There was nothing more torturous than listening to that charming laugh and smiling voice echo through the dark when I was trying my hardest not to fall for him.

  “There was a time you seemed to do little else but laugh.” His voice was softer now, not as easily heard through the wall between us. I found myself leaning closer to the wall to hear it. I pulled my blankets back up and pressed my ear against the wall in the dark. “Now you seem to do nothing but … scowl.”