by Darcy Burke
At any other time, he would’ve laughed. “Just stumble and make indeterminate noises now and again.”
“I can do that.”
He smiled at her, appreciating her pluck. He put his uninjured left arm around her and drew her against him. His right arm continued to ache, but he’d relegated the pain to the back of his mind.
She stiffened slightly as she came against him, then relaxed. In fact, she slumped against him and he had to prop her up.
“Perhaps you could merely try to look incapacitated instead of actually being incapacitated,” he whispered down at her. “I’m having a hard time supporting both of our weight in my wounded state.”
She immediately corrected her posture, pulling herself away from him, but still keeping close as if she were leaning on him. “Give me a pinch or something if I’m hurting you.”
Yes, Miss Audrey Cheswick was a most intrepid young woman.
He moved around the corner into the courtyard. A couple of lanterns glowed, offering just enough light for him to select their quarry, though he could probably do just as well in the dark. He’d come to these mews often as a lad and knew them nearly as well as the rookeries.
There were no stable lads about, but they wouldn’t be far off—either slumbering in an empty stall or gathered around a table drinking from a bottle of this or that.
He led her to the first alcove, but it held a coach. And the next one contained a brougham. He paused and leaned against the brick again. Hitching up horses was complicated with two good arms. How in the hell was he going to manage it with only one? He leaned down, tucking his head beneath her hat, and spoke softly against Audrey’s ear. “I don’t suppose you know how to hitch horses to a vehicle?”
She angled her head, trying to look at him, but he pressed her back against his shoulder. “Don’t,” he whispered. She needed to keep her head down to continue their ruse. Furthermore, turning to look at him would’ve brought her mouth dangerously close to his. It was bad enough his lips were against the delicate shell of her ear. Worse, his nose was full of her tantalizing scent—something floral, but with a bit of spice. She smelled clean, fresh, not like the women of his acquaintance who used fragrance to draw one’s attention away from their lesser attributes.
“Not very well,” she whispered in response to his question.
He could work with that. He pushed away from the wall, intent on finding a smaller vehicle. The sound of horses’ hooves and wheels over cobblestone drove him back against the wall. “Shhh,” he hissed as the carriage—or whatever it was—drew near to the courtyard.
A stable lad dashed into the center of the cobblestoned area to greet the vehicle, a jaunty two-seat cabriolet.
Perfect.
Ethan grinned against her ear. “No need. We’ll take that one.”
A tiger jumped out of the terribly fashionable cab, its two-person seat shielded from the elements by a dark blue cover. He exchanged words with the stable lad and then took off hastily across the courtyard back the way he came. Even better.
The stable boy led the horse and vehicle toward the opposite side of the courtyard. Ethan pulled his arm from around Audrey’s shoulder and drew a few coins from his bag. “Wait here.”
He set his bag and truncheon down beside her, then strode purposefully across the cobblestones to where the boy was leading the vehicle toward an empty stall. The boy would unhitch the horse, store the vehicle, and take care of the livestock. Or, he would if Ethan didn’t have other plans.
“‘Evening there,” Ethan said warmly. “That’s quite a piece.” He nodded at the cabriolet.
As expected, the boy regarded him suspiciously. He cocked his ginger head to the side. “Who’re you?”
As a lad, Ethan had offered to help the stable boys, give them a reprieve from their duties—free of charge. They’d tottered off to have an ale or play some cards upstairs, while Ethan had taken the vehicle out for a wild ride. Such a ruse wouldn’t work in this instance. Ethan couldn’t pass himself off as a poor young boy looking for a brush with finery. Instead, he said, “I’m a friend of his lordship’s,” and hoped the owner of the cabriolet was in fact a peer.
“What’re ye doing ’ere?” The boy’s question was laced with doubt. He kept his hand on the horse’s lead.
“He bade me meet him here for a midnight ride. It appears he forgot.”
The boy seemed to relax slightly. “Not surprised. ’E takes this thing out at all hours. Couple o’ times ’e’s been passed out inside when the tiger drops it off.” The boy laughed commiseratively.
Ethan smiled. “Sounds like him. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I took it out anyway?”
The boy’s brow furrowed and he scratched his head. “I don’t want no trouble.”
“It’ll be fine.” Ethan grabbed the boy’s hand, startling him, and dumped the coins into his palm. “It’ll be our secret. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
The boy stared at the coins. It was more than he’d make in a week. “Right ye are.” He released the horse, touched his forehead, and ambled across the courtyard to a dimly lit room in the back corner.
Ethan moved fast. He pulled the horse around and looked to see if Audrey had watched the exchange. She was already stepping out of the stall they’d been hiding in, carrying his bag and truncheon. Good girl.
When she got to the cabriolet, he helped her up into it and then climbed in, wincing, beside her. He hadn’t planned it, but was glad to be on her right so that she wouldn’t jostle against his wound. Plucking up the reins, he turned the horse and drove them out of the courtyard.
She looked sideways at him from beneath her too-large hat. “How did you manage that?”
He steered the cab toward Piccadilly, past Devonshire House. “Money.”
“You gave him some money and he just let you take this?” She sounded incredulous. How innocent and naïve she was. People would do just about anything for money, but he wouldn’t spoil her illusions. Not yet.
“I told him we were only going for a short ride.”
She pulled her coat more tightly around her. “You lied.”
“I did what I had to.” Lying was the least of his crimes. What would the guileless young lady beside him think if she knew the depths of his wickedness? He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead as he turned the corner onto Piccadilly. The traffic was more congested here, but not terrible. It would lighten up as they traveled west.
“Do you have a destination in mind yet or are you driving blindly? I should like to know where we’re going.”
“Questions, questions. I’m not precisely sure of where we’ll end up. We’re getting out of London before those men can find you again.”
She exhaled loudly, a sound of profound relief. “That’s undoubtedly for the best. I hope it won’t take terribly long to get there. Your wound needs attention.”
He looked sideways at her. The small lanterns hanging from the sides of the cover offered a faint glow that streamed over her pale face. She was looking forward, her hands wrapped about herself. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“A bit, yes.”
He reached down and pulled a flap up to cover her knees. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
She settled it more firmly across her legs. “Thank you.” After a moment, she tried again. “Do you have a specific location in mind?”
Hell no, just out of London. He’d take them out the Knightsbridge Highway. There were plenty of inns where they could stop for the night. Two gentlemen on their way out of town. He glanced at her, wondering if she could even pass for such a thing. But apparently she already had—or had at least tried to. His curiosity was piqued.
They made their way past Hyde Park in silence. Ethan worked to keep himself upright. He felt weakened, exhausted. He blinked furiously and stiffened his spine.
“Mr. Locke,” Audrey’s voice rang out clear and startling after the length of quiet, “or should I call you Mr. Jagger?”
“I pr
efer Locke.” He actually preferred Lockwood, but he wasn’t quite there yet. His half-brother, Lord Jason Lockwood, might finally be willing to claim him as blood, but would he share his name?
“Is Jagger your real surname?” she asked softly. “Your mother’s name?” She knew what everyone knew—that he was a bastard, Lockwood’s bastard brother.
He didn’t want her to know that name, and not because of his illegitimacy. If she knew even a fraction of the things Jagger had done . . . she’d never look at him with kindness again. “Yes, but as I said, I prefer Locke.”
She was quiet a moment. The dark night enveloped them as they drew away from the park. “I have a lot of questions.” She turned her head to look at him. “Beginning with why you came to my window tonight.”
Best to stay with the truth, or at least a partial version of it. “To tend my wound. You were the closest person I knew.” And my money was stashed in your tree.
“And how did you sustain the wound?” She looked across him, her gaze fixed on the bloodied tear in his coat. “Did a knife do that?”
“You know your weapons,” he said wryly. “I have questions for you as well.” Deflection was an old and welcome tool. “How does a proper young lady like you know how to fire a pistol? And why do you keep two of them in your bedroom?”
She withdrew her hand from his arm and thrust it into the pocket of her coat. Then she snapped her gaze forward. “I grew up in the country with two much older brothers and too many male cousins.”
He noted she only answered one of his queries, and only barely. Just as he didn’t wish to be pressed, he would allow her the same courtesy.
Silence descended once more, for a good ten minutes. Finally, she breached the void. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
A fair conclusion for anyone with average intelligence, and he knew Audrey Cheswick well enough to know she possessed quite a bit more than that. “Perhaps.” Time for more deflection. He reached his arm around her and pulled her against his side to pool their warmth. “We’ll be there soon.” Ethan would stop at the first inn he felt was far enough away from town.
“It’s just . . .” Her voice was laced with something cold and brittle, a sadness tinged with disbelief. “I’ve never shot anyone before. I hope he’ll be all right.”
Ethan swallowed a laugh. She wouldn’t find any humor in the situation, while he couldn’t help but be amused by her concern for a criminal. “You shot him near the shoulder. He might have trouble with his arm for a while, but if he takes care of it, he’ll be fine.” Back on the street enforcing Gin Jimmy’s will within the week, probably.
“You think so?” Her frame relaxed against his. “I’m pleased to hear it. I would hate to think I killed a man.”
“You do realize he knocked your grandfather unconscious? And was going to kidnap you to God-knows-what fate.” Ethan knew what fate, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to outline it for her.
She stiffened. “You’re right. I refuse to feel badly for him. Maybe he won’t be able to use his arm well again. That would serve him right.”
Ethan smiled into the darkness. “What a little cutthroat you are.”
Just then, a man on horseback moved into the road, forcing Ethan to slow. The lights from the cabriolet illuminated the cocked pistol in his hand and the nasty leer on his face. “Stand and deliver, mate.”
Ethan clenched the reins. Fucking highwaymen. Ethan considered running the man down, but the cabriolet wasn’t a particularly heavy vehicle. The sound of a pistol cocking to his right made the final decision. A second brigand had ridden up beside them and was close enough that his shot wouldn’t miss.
Audrey inhaled sharply and grabbed Ethan’s elbow with both hands as if she were holding on for her life. His mind scrambled to think of how to defend her. He had the knife he’d taken from the criminal at Audrey’s tucked into his boot, but he missed his familiar blade and wished he hadn’t had to leave it behind in the alley. He shook his head to refocus, a problem he’d never encountered before tonight. But then he’d never had to protect a young lady before.
He also had the truncheon, which was tucked beneath his coat beside him on the seat.
“Follow what I do,” he whispered urgently toward Audrey. He held up his left hand, which dislodged her grip, as well as her hat as his fingers grazed the brim. “We don’t have anything for you.” Not true, but there was no way he’d relinquish his bag of money, which sat on the floor of the cabriolet between their feet.
“We’ll jes’ see ’bout that,” the highwayman to his right said.
The other one steered his horse toward them and came around to Audrey’s side. Her hat had fallen to her lap, revealing her hair and face and leaving no doubt as to her sex. Ethan didn’t like the way the man leered at her.
Ethan’s pulse thrummed hard and fast in his veins. He wished she had a pistol to fire. The highwaymen wouldn’t stand a chance.
The highwayman next to Ethan spoke again. “Pull the flap back. Slow or my friend,” he nodded toward the other highwayman, “will jes’ as soon kill yer bird.”
Ethan’s blood started to boil. He steeled himself and hoped Audrey could handle what he had to do.
He eased the cover back, exposing their legs by degrees. Audrey’s tension and fear seeped into him like cold and damp on a harsh winter night. As he pushed the flap down toward their ankles, he slipped the knife from his boot and thrust it up beneath the cuff of his coat. The steel was icy against his wrist, the hilt a welcome weight against his palm.
“Wot’s ’at?” the man near Audrey asked. “Looks like a bag. Toss it ’ere then.”
“I don’t have the strength,” Ethan said, infusing his tone with pain and weakness. He held up his right arm so the highwayman on his side could see the bloodied tear in his coat. “I’m hurt. You’ll have to come get it.”
“She can toss it.”
“Faint!” Ethan muttered, barely moving his lips.
A beat passed and then she let out a shriek before collapsing against him, her eyelids dropping.
“Fer Christ’s sake. Jes’ get it, Tim!” the brigand on Ethan’s side called.
The highwayman slid from his horse and stepped onto the side of the cab. “We should take the gig. Never seen one this fancy.” He leaned down to pick up the bag, and Ethan made his move.
He reared up and slashed at the man’s neck with the knife. Blood spurted across Audrey’s pantaloons and the man slumped upon her feet. Her eyes flew open and she screamed.
Ethan shoved her down, her head coming within inches of the bleeding highwayman at her feet, just as his partner’s pistol discharged behind Ethan. The bullet grazed his right shoulder. With a cry, he turned and launched himself from the cab. His body connected with the highwayman, knocking him from the horse. They landed in a heap on the opposite side of the animal, near the ditch beside the road. The beast whinnied and skipped away.
Ethan gripped the knife and rolled onto his knees. The brigand was also trying to come up from his back, but Ethan was a bit faster. He lurched over the highwayman and aimed the knife for his jugular, but the man brought up his hand, earning a nasty gash across his forearm.
Another scream from the cabriolet drew Ethan’s attention, allowing the highwayman to roll away. Dammit, if he wasn’t distracted, the thief would be dead by now.
Ethan reared up and reached for the man, but he was already on his feet. He took off running. As Ethan made to go after him, he glanced back at the cab to check on Audrey and saw a slight figure—a boy who was maybe working with the highwaymen or maybe not—jumping down with Ethan’s bag in his hands. The boy spared Ethan the slightest of glances and took off running. With his money.
Cursing, Ethan ran after him, but with his twice-wounded arm and the bruises he’d just sustained from attacking the highwayman, he was too slow. The boy was already disappearing into the dark night. Uttering another, much louder, curse Ethan stalked back toward the cab. Christ, Audrey! She’d screamed a sec
ond time. Had the boy hurt her? Why had Ethan been more concerned with the money than with her?
Shame washed through him as he found the strength to run back to the cabriolet.
She stumbled onto the road as he arrived, his breath coming hard and fast. Her eyes were huge in the lamplight, her face nearly white. “He’s . . . he’s . . . he’s dead.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and rushed to the side of the road.
She bent over, but Ethan couldn’t be certain if she was sick. Torn between going to her and disposing of the body in the cabriolet, he decided he’d better do the latter before attempting the former.
He moved slowly to the other side of the cab, stopping briefly to reassure the horse, who’d been astonishingly calm throughout the encounter. Ethan’s experience with the animals wasn’t extensive, but he knew a horse attached to a vehicle of this caliber would be a well-trained beast. Thank God for that.
The highwayman was sprawled on the floor, his feet dangling over the edge of the cab. He was on his side, a pool of blood beneath his head. His eyes gazed sightlessly at the night sky. Ethan felt no remorse. In his life, the tenet of “kill or be killed” was more than an idea; it was reality.
He pulled the lifeless body out of the cab. His muscles screamed in agony at the exertion required to wrestle the large man to the ground. Then Ethan dragged the highwayman to the side of the road and pushed him over into the ditch.
When he turned around, Audrey was standing near the coach. “Why did you kill him?”
“He would’ve killed us.”
“Would he have? Maybe if you’d given him the bag, they would’ve gone about their way and left us alone.”
Ethan shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t have. At best, they would’ve taken the money and you. I saw the way they both looked at you.” With lust and violence gleaming in their eyes.
She brought her hands to her mouth and clenched her eyes shut.
Though agony poured through him, Ethan forced himself toward her. “Miss Cheswick. Audrey.” He had no experience in soothing a distraught young woman. “He was a very bad man. A criminal.” Like Ethan. He took her hands away from her face. “Look at me.”
