The Highwayman's Bride

by Beckenham Jane

  It proved futile.

  She and Aiden circled each other like peacocks in a ritualistic dance of courtship, where neither was prepared to give in.

  How could she? Her husband’s stubborn refusal to discuss any matters pertaining to Alexander riled her.

  He was a delightful child, full of life and enthusiasm. All he wanted was the love of a father.

  The little boy already had her love. At bedtime she would tuck him in, read him a story, and then kiss him good-night. It had become their ritual after a day of walks, playing games, and answering his unending questions. They were moments she had begun to cherish.

  Last night as she’d gone to leave, he had wrapped his chubby arms around her neck and whispered in her ear. “I love you, Mama. Thank you for being my mama.”

  That moment had sealed her fate and she had left quickly, not wanting him to see her tears. She did love him. And she loved his father too.

  The trouble was, one part of her desperately wanted to leave, knowing that living with a man she loved and who did not love her back would destroy her. Yet it was because of that love that she could not leave.

  As the house came into view, the thick, swirling fog parting as Moses parted the Red Sea, Tess tugged her cloak tighter and ducked her head down to evade the icy winds.

  Once inside, Barlow took her cloak. “There is a letter for you, m’lady.”

  “For me?”

  “I’ve left it on the table in the morning room.”

  Removing her bonnet and her leather gloves, she passed them to Barlow and headed into the morning room.

  Jasper lounged in a leather wingback chair in front of the fire. His appearance shocked Tess. With his neckcloth undone, jacket wrinkled and jaw unshaven, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  He glanced at her with bloodshot eyes. “It’s all undone, Tess. He will not help.” He guzzled a mouthful of whatever he drank.

  Tess shook her head. “There is nothing I can do, Jasper.”

  “Surely you can use your womanly charms.”

  Tess stiffened, her smile close-lipped. “I will pretend I did not hear such from you.”

  Jasper shoved himself from his chair and drank the dregs of his drink. “I’m sorry,” he said, wavering toward the sideboard where the crystal decanters waited. He refilled his glass.

  Oh, dear. This young man had more than money problems, but only he could fix them.

  She scooped up the crisp white envelope lying on the sideboard, surprised to see that the outbound correspondence Barlow usually took care of hadn’t been handled.

  She spied one for a publisher and recognized Mary’s script. It seemed her sister-in-law had been busy with her musings.

  Retrieving the letter opener, Tess took a seat. With the sharp blade she ripped at the envelope and withdrew the single folded page. She spied the signature.

  Tulip.

  “Dear Tess, I do hope you are happy and that your husband is gentle. The winter is the worst they say for years, and ’tis possible the Thames will freeze over. Do you remember as a child the frost fayre on the small lake beside your home?

  However, I must tell you that Luther is heading your way…”

  Tess’s throat closed over, an irrational fear igniting. She read on.

  “He has a new business venture and will be in your area on the thirty-first for a meeting later in the day—”

  “That’s today,” Tess said aloud.

  “What is?” Jasper was back in front of the fire.

  “My Aunt Tulip has written to say Luther is visiting the area to do business. He’ll be here today.”

  “Lucky man. I hope it’s profitable.”

  “What’s profitable?” Aiden strode into the room and instantly her gaze locked with his, though it was only a moment before he glanced away.

  “Your wife’s uncle has a new venture and is visiting the region.”

  “Luther?” Aiden crossed the room, coming to stand in front of the fire. “You have received word?”

  “A letter,” she said, proffering it to him.

  His eyes darkened to pitch as Aiden snatched at the letter. He scanned Tulip’s fine script. “What else do you know? What else?” He dropped the letter back in her lap. “I’m warning you, Tess,” he said, as he reached for her and pulled her from her seat, fingers digging into her flesh.

  “Aiden! Stop!” He didn’t let go and Tess winced. “Aiden!” She wrenched herself from his grip and stumbled backward, massaging where his fingers had dug into her arm. “Don’t you dare bully me, Aiden,” she admonished, taking another step back. “I will not put up with it. Not from you. I had enough of Luther’s bullying to last a lifetime. No more. Do you hear me? Do you?” Her voice rang loud and true. She would not put up with that from anyone. Especially from the man she loved.

  His breath expunged in a burst, horror etched on every inch of his face, eyes filled with remorse. “I’m…oh, God, Tess. I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. Never. It is Nash.”

  “Nash? What has he got to do with my uncle?”

  “You’ve met him.”

  Tess wracked her brains for such a meeting and came up blank. “I think you’re mistaken.”

  “Your uncle was talking to him at the Bancroft ball.”

  Her eyes widened, realization suddenly clear. “That man, he…he is Mary’s Nash? The man you are hunting.” She sank back down to her seat. “I did not know. Believe me.” Nash and her uncle. “He was someone who came to visit occasionally. His name was…” She frowned as she scrambled to remember. She had barely noticed him, taken little interest. “A…a Foster…Nesbitt. Oh—” She clasped a hand to her mouth. “His initials are FN, the same as your Mr. Nash.”

  “Exactly. A bit basic, but effective.”

  “Obviously, since he fooled me. But what has Luther got to do with him?”

  “They’re business partners.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  “It is if the business is importing illegal champagne.”

  “The same business you are trying to catch Nash undertaking.”

  “It is.”

  Aiden’s confirmation caused a sour taste to swirl inside her mouth. “What now?”

  “Now, I get him.”

  Jasper, glass in hand, dragged himself upright and stumbled over the table. “Nash is no fool, Aiden. He has his scouts.”

  “The man is cunning, I agree, but I’m cleverer. I will get him, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The prophecy!

  Aiden strode from the room and Tess hurried after him. “Aiden.”

  He turned to face her and the dark fury she’d witnessed in his eyes only moments ago had dissolved. His pistol was already tucked into his tailcoat pocket, a cloak drawn around his shoulders.

  She hated these moments when he was about to ride off into danger. It spurred so many questions, ones she was afraid to give life to, consider, or contemplate.

  Without thinking she reached a hand out to him and caressed his strong jaw. His stubble abraded her fingertips and the sudden memory of it scraping across private places, pleasure places, rushed back. Tears threatened, but she would not let him see her distress. “Please be safe.”

  He clasped her hands in his and squeezed them, then sought her mouth in a fierce kiss, branding her as his.

  She was.

  She sighed into him, taking everything she could from their kiss and clung to the edges of his cloak.

  Dear lord, how could she give up this man?

  “Tess.” He whispered her name against her ear. “I need to leave now.” His hands shifted to her shoulders and he gently pushed her away from him.

  She stared up at him. She loved him so much.

  With a soft kiss to her forehead, he spun away, nodded to Jasper. “Look after everyone.”

  Then he was gone and her world collapsed.

  …

  Mary found her alone in her chamber, her hairbrush in her lap, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, my
dear Tess, do not cry. He is a brute, that brother of mine.”

  “No. No he’s not.” Tess shook her head, hair falling across her face. “He is a man of honor and great loyalty.”

  “Aye,” Aiden’s sister agreed, as she sat on the bed beside Tess. She put her arm around Tess. “But at what cost?”

  Mary’s comment surprised her. “Do you not want Nash brought to justice? I would have thought you, of all people, would want that.”

  “The man is out of my life. Oh, I admit I wanted him dead,” she said with all seriousness. “I wanted him to burn in the fires of hell, but I can breathe now. I can smile. I see the sun, the flowers, the birds—”

  “Oh, Mary.” Her tears renewed, but they were not out of sadness—but joy. Joy in her heart to hear such hope in Mary’s voice.

  “Goodness, I’ve just remembered what I came to tell you.” She gave Tess a secretive look.

  “What?”

  “We are expecting visitors. I’ve just received a note from my friend Charlotte,” she said, reaching for the slip of paper from the pocket in her gown. “She is Lord Beswick’s sister. They are coming to join us for a day as they’re staying at Portlea Manor not far from here, and,” she said, her cheeks suddenly tinged pink, “the Duke of Harlgrove is accompanying them.” Mary’s eyes shone bright. “He is known about the ton as rather a cad, you know.”

  “Is this part of your Mirabelle gossip, Mary?”

  Mary tapped a finger to her nose. “That would be telling, but all the young women are batting their lashes at him.”

  “And you?”

  Mary’s blush deepened. “Certainly not.”

  “Oh, Mary, you are such a bad liar. So tell me,” Tess asked, leaning forward, barely able to contain her interest. “What is he like?”

  Mary entertained her for some time, the two of them in fits of giggles as Mary recounted the time in London when she had been presented to the Regent.

  “I can see why you’re so successful with your writings. You tell stories just as you write them as Mirabelle. Such talent.”

  “It is amusing.”

  “More than that. You have made me laugh when laughter was the furthest thing from my mind.”

  “I’m glad.” Her sister-in-law leaned over and hugged her. “And now I must go and prepare for our visitors.”

  “One visitor in particular?”

  Mary’s eyes widened, but she simply feigned a smile and turned to leave.

  “Don’t forget to pick out your best dress, Mary.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  ’Tis the beginning of a new year

  The time to start afresh for love is in the air.

  Mirabelle’s Musings

  New Year’s Eve 1813

  The hammering at her chamber door jolted Tess awake.

  “Aiden?” Tess clambered from her bed. “Who is it?”

  “’Tis Barlow, m’lady.”

  She wrenched the door open to find him standing with a candlestick aloft, the thin flame illuminating his worried expression.

  Her stomach lurched and goose bumps dotted her arms. Please. Please. Not Aiden.

  “M’lady, I’m sorry, but I do not know what else to do. His Lordship has not returned.”

  “He often stays out overnight on his…ah…excursions,” she said trying to stem her rising panic.

  “True, but Tom Hardy arrived from the village. He’s often the lookout for his Lordship.”

  “He says the excisemen have been spotted only five miles along the coast. They’re heading this way.”

  “But Aiden is not breaking any laws. He is simply bringing Nash to justice.”

  “Aye, m’lady, but those men of the so-called law are more ruthless than Nash, and likely to shoot first and ask questions later. It’s a dark night; they might not recognize his Lordship.”

  A cry wrenched from her lips and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. “We must get word to him. Send Tom back to warn him.”

  “I have, m’lady, but his son who went with him has returned alone.”

  Was this the prophecy?

  “The boy said Tom was waylaid by the authorities, but so far has said nothing to them. We need to find his Lordship and warn him to keep his distance.”

  “Jasper! Rouse him.” Tess edged passed Barlow and stepped toward Jasper’s chamber. About to knock, the loyal servant interrupted her.

  “’Tis of no use, m’lady, young Master Jasper went out not long after his Lordship and he too has not returned.”

  “Do we know where he’s gone?”

  Barlow’s gaze shifted, but not before Tess caught the wary look.

  “Barlow,” she prompted.

  “I do not want to tell tales, m’lady.”

  “Tell all you like, if it will help his Lordship.”

  The man’s lips thinned, his disapproval clear. “Master Jasper has been frequenting the ale houses in nearby towns of late. He drinks and gambles, m’lady.”

  “So if Jasper is not here…” Her voice trailed off. Who? How?

  She had to save Aiden. Warn him.

  “Wake the groom and get him to saddle up the fastest horse we have.”

  Confusion scoured across Barlow’s worried eyes, adding to the man’s already aged visage. “M’lady?”

  “Since there is no one else, I will go.”

  “You? M’lady, you cannot.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “But you are a lady. I’m sure his Lordship would not permit it.”

  “He is not here,” Tess countered, “which is exactly why we have this problem.” Although that wasn’t true. It was all because of Nash. Nash and his brutal treatment of Mary. Nash and his thieving ways. It was definitely time to put an end to it all. “Time is of the essence, Barlow. Get my horse ready.”

  The man hurried off to awaken the groom and Tess spun back to her room, shutting the door behind her. For two heartbeats she simply stood stock-still.

  Aiden! Oh, Aiden.

  Move, Tess. Move to save the man you love.

  She sprang into action, dropped to her knees beside the bed and reached beneath it, searching for exactly what she needed.

  Fingers curling around a leather-braided handle, she hauled out the old canvas bag and quickly tossed the contents onto her bed. Definitely what she needed.

  Spread out before her was the man’s garb she had worn on her first—and only—venture into crime. Though uncertain why she had kept it, she was pleased now that she had.

  Wasting no time, she dressed and checked her appearance in the mirror.

  Perfect.

  The trews were far too big and held up with a thick leather belt, the shirt grayed with age, the jacket threadbare in parts. With her cap pulled down low no one would mistake her for a woman, least of all the Countess of Charnley.

  Downstairs, grateful the house was quiet and everyone tucked up in their beds, she headed through the kitchen to the door that led to the rear garden.

  Barlow stood waiting. “Are you sure, m’lady?”

  She nodded. “We have no choice.” Which was true. “Urgency is of the essence.”

  He followed her out to the stable where a sleepy-eyed Flynn held the horse’s reins. She mounted easily.

  “Dandy will take care of you. She’s young, but has good judgment,” the groom enthused.

  “Thank you.” Tess smiled down at him but couldn’t help wondering about her own judgment.

  Barlow held out a bag to her. “You may need this, m’lady. There are many rascals about.”

  Tess peered inside the bag. Beneath the faint glow of a midnight moon she spied a pistol. Her throat dried. She didn’t want to consider using it, but hopefully, it would ward off any threats without the need to be fired. “Thank you.”

  Quietly, Barlow gave her directions.

  …

  An hour later, soaked from the persistent drizzle, she hunkered down low against Dandy and urged the animal on. Wisps of white air surged from its nostrils an
d mingled with the arctic night.

  She ignored it all, intent on reaching Aiden before the excisemen. Past the tumbledown cottage where the old witch lived, along the meandering track bordering the Thames, her journey seemed to take forever and time lost all meaning. Finally, she spied the village of Peyton and she reined in Dandy.

  According to Barlow, the excisemen were coming from Lowton, west of Peyton, and Aiden should be just south of Peyton watching for Nash.

  Tess skirted the village using a by-lane that wove through the small copse of oak bordering the village square. She eyed the heavens, grateful that the rain had ceased at last, though the moon remained hidden behind thick clouds.

  As she cleared the copse, she reined in Dandy. The horse snorted, stomping against the frozen earth. “Easy girl. We need to be silent.” She leaned forward and rubbed the horse’s neck.

  Suddenly she heard voices and her nerves pitched. Drawing aside a swath of oak branches, she spied a group of men lugging several crates from a small boat moored at the river’s edge.

  Nash?

  Tess strained to identify the voices. Then brash laughter echoed, firing realization. She knew that sound. Recognized it, though God help her, she wished she didn’t.

  Luther Gibbs was in the thick of this gang’s escapade. Hearing a sharp retort confirmed her suspicions.

  “Shut your mouth, Gibbs. Do you want the world to know what we’re up to?”

  Nash, Tess presumed.

  A horse whinnied, snatching her attention, and she scanned the terrain to the left of the smugglers. There…slightly back on a small hillock but secluded behind a towering oak, was a lone horseman.

  Tess recognized his outline instantly. The problem was to reach him without alerting the smugglers of both their whereabouts.

  Deciding it best to backtrack and go farther west so she could come round from behind and thus reach him, Tess pulled on Dandy’s reins and guided the patient animal to retreat along the path.

  Intent on keeping Aiden in her sight, she didn’t notice the posse of excisemen until she was almost upon them. She had nowhere to go. Not left. Not right.

  They advanced, not toward Nash, but Aiden.

  With a brutal yank on the reins she redirected Dandy, digging her boots into the animal’s side. The horse whinnied in protest and shot out from their hiding place. Tess drew out her pistol, pointed it skyward and pulled the trigger at the same time as she screeched into the darkness. “The excisemen are coming. The excisemen.”