The Highwayman Came Riding

by Qeturah Edeli

  “Now shut up.” Mr. Sweeton tried to kiss him again.

  “Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You little whore.”

  “No, I never asked for money.”

  “You’re only here because you thought I would release your sister if you let me fuck you.”

  Where was Augustus? “Guilty as charged?” Elias gave a culpable smile.

  “The nerve.”

  “Yes. Now stop.”

  Mr. Sweeton remained where he was. “You disgusting little sod.”

  “Yes, I’m utterly repellant. Now, if you’d be so good as to get the fuck off me.” He tried to sit up.

  Mr. Sweeton pinned him down by the shoulders. “And why should I do that?”

  Across the room, the casement window exploded with a reverberating crash. Amid the tinkling glass, there was a loud thud, a grunt, and then a voice. “Because rape is a despicable crime, Charles,” said Augustus, breathless. “And you hate criminals, don’t you?”

  “You,” said Mr. Sweeton. Elias could feel him tense.

  “Yes, me. This is all very dramatic, isn’t it? Me, coming in through your bedroom window to find you molesting my beau after you had his sister arrested.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “He said stop,” Augustus said, just as Elias growled, “You’re not my beau.”

  “We’ll talk about that later, Eli,” Augustus said. “But now, be still a moment. Take a short nap, if you want. Won’t be long.”

  Mr. Sweeton leaped from Elias and, by the sounds of it, charged at Augustus. He swore as he stepped in glass. There was a great deal of scuffling and thumping, and then silence. Elias lay on the bed, afraid to breathe lest he miss something.

  “Right. On the chair,” Augustus said, panting. Elias made to stand. “No, not you, Eli,” Augustus said. “Stay where you are. There’s glass everywhere. Charles. On the chair, or I’ll cut your throat.”

  “You don’t have the guts to kill a man,” Mr. Sweeton snapped.

  “Oh, really? That isn’t what you told everyone in the county this past week.”

  “I know you didn’t kill the Joneses. Though as for the allegations of bestiality, I don’t doubt them.”

  “Oh my God,” Augustus muttered. Then, louder, “I didn’t fuck a goat, you idiot. Clearly I have high standards. And how do you know I didn’t kill the Joneses?”

  “Because I’m the one who put your pistol there. I found it in the Joneses’ pasture and saw your name engraved on it. Looked like you’d lost it a long time ago. The pistol is the only thing tying you to the murders. That, and your reputation. You deserve everything you get, even if you aren’t a murderer, by the way.”

  The pistol must have fallen out of Augustus’s cloak when he and Elias went through the pasture to the glen back in September. And so this was how Kenneth Davies had known to tip them off. What a good man. Elias was never giving him enough credit.

  “Could I get that in writing?” Augustus asked.

  “No, you shit.”

  “On the chair.”

  There was a hiss, as though Mr. Sweeton was in pain, and then a shuffling.

  “Good. Stay still while I’m tying you up, or it’ll be a slip of the shiv for you.”

  “You’ll never get away,” Mr. Sweeton said as a creaking of wood and fabric indicated to Elias that Augustus was tying him to the chair. “Everyone knows your face.”

  “I don’t,” Elias offered.

  “Like father, like son,” Mr. Sweeton continued, as though he had not heard Elias.

  “Bloody hell, is this still about what my father denied yours?”

  “Yes!”

  “And not about how I stole the beautiful and quick-witted Elias Burgess from under your ugly nose?”

  “My nose is handsome. I have infinitely better breeding than you.”

  “We have the same breeding, cousin.” Cousin! It all made sense now. “I grow weary of your voice. You sound like your uncle.” There was an indignant choking sound; Augustus must have shoved something into Mr. Sweeton’s mouth.

  With a grinding of glass underfoot, Augustus crossed the room. He took hold of Elias’s hands and helped him into a sitting position.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  “I’m fine.”

  Augustus brushed his cheek, but Elias swatted his hand away. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Don’t put your feet down, you’ll cut them up. Here.” Augustus passed Elias first his stockings, then his trousers, then his boots, then his shirt, then his waistcoat, then his cravat, and finally his jacket and cloak. When Elias was dressed, Augustus perched a hat on top of his head for him. Elias supposed it must be Mr. Sweeton’s, for he had not had his own when he was cast from the Peach and Pear.

  “You look especially dapper just now. I thought you should know,” Augustus said.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Never again.” Augustus took his elbow and led him across the room. Glass ground underfoot. “His aunt isn’t actually home, is she? I mean, I know she’s half-deaf, but I don’t think anyone could’ve missed that.”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know? I cut up my shoulder smashing through the window.”

  Elias regretted the fate of Augustus’s shoulder, but he did not let on. “Charles opened the window, I couldn’t drop my ribbon.”

  “Oh, so he’s Charles now?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were cousins?” Augustus had said Mr. Sweeton knew his face because he was an outlaw in Mitton, but then Augustus had admitted he had only ever stolen from Elias, and Elias had never provided a physical description. So Mr. Sweeton had known Augustus as the heir he hated, an obstacle in the way of a massive inheritance Mr. Sweeton believed was rightfully his.

  “Fine, I won’t ask if you don’t ask.”

  “Fine.”

  “Adieu, Charles,” Augustus said grandly as he closed the bedroom door behind them. As he led Elias downstairs, he could hear Mr. Sweeton’s muffled shouts from above, but doubted Mrs. John Rowan would. With any luck, he would be tied up in his room until at least the next morning.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  After he sent off Mr. Sweeton’s horse into the woods with a slap and a loud “Hiya!”, Augustus helped Elias onto his horse in the garden.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought that bastard would free my sister just to help me,” Elias muttered.

  “He’s human-shaped shit. Don’t take it personally,” Augustus said, kicking his horse into a canter. Elias tried not to think about how Augustus’s crotch was pressed against his ass, or how Augustus had to wrap his arms loosely around Elias to manipulate the reins.

  “They’ll need to be distracted. The redcoats, I mean. We never did sort how we were going to do that,” Elias said above the hoof beats.

  “Yes,” Augustus agreed.

  “I can’t think of how to get them all out of the house at once.”

  “I can.”

  Elias waited. Augustus said nothing.

  “What?”

  “I’ll distract them.”

  “But they’re looking for you.”

  “That’s the point. They’ll all come running if they see me.”

  “You’re not handing yourself in!” Elias snarled, outraged. Augustus was an idiot. “What a fucking preposterous idea!”

  “Why?”

  “Why, you’ll be killed!”

  “Better than having Bess harmed, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You ass, don’t you dare imply I must choose between you and my twin.”

  “Oh, as if it’s a hard decision.”

  “I refuse to partake in a plan where you end up shot down like a dog by design,” Elias growled.

  “I never said I intended to get shot down like a dog on the highway. Only that I’d distract them.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I thought you hated me?”

  Elias bared his teeth and gave a
hiss of annoyance not unlike Lord Nelson. “Maybe. But it doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

  “I didn’t like your plan to distract Charles, and you did it anyway.”

  “That was different!” Elias yelled.

  “How? Because you thought you were in control? You weren’t, by the way. And I was worried sick the whole time!”

  “Fucking hell, you sound like Bess.”

  “All the more reason for me to help free her. Maybe she can talk some sense that gets through your thick skull!”

  “She told me I never should have gone with you when you left me as you did! You think I should’ve listened to her then?”

  Augustus sighed. When he spoke, it was clear the fight had left him. “I don’t know. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t.”

  “What do you intend to do, anyway?”

  “I don’t know, light a fire? Dance through the streets? I’ll make the way clear, and then you can go in and get Bess out. And your father, if you want. You haven’t even mentioned him, but rumor had it he’s detained too.”

  “He probably is.”

  “Are you letting him out as well?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Come now, he’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad? He’s given me beatings worse than those soldiers have given me, and for less cause. Think about that a moment. He let you fuck me because he doesn’t care about me, not because he’s someone special who understands what it’s like to be like us and wants me to be happy.”

  “If it were my father, I’d let him out. Think about that a moment. You have no idea what those redcoats will do to the place when I escape and they find Bess has too.”

  Elias’s temper was rising. “Well, he’s not your father, so it’s not your decision.”

  Augustus made a throaty sound. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. I promise you.”

  “Thank you,” Elias muttered. He did not want to discuss this further. “I will consider your position and then do whatever the fuck I want.”

  “I don’t know what I see in you,” Augustus said, puffing a sigh into the back of Elias’s head. “You’re impossible.”

  “Perhaps it’s my ass. I do believe you once said it was ‘finer than silk and twice as soft.’” Elias would never forget this particular praise as long as he lived.

  “Did I? I don’t remember that.” He could hear a laugh buried somewhere deep in Augustus’s voice.

  “I see nothing in you, by the way,” Elias snapped.

  “I’d expect nothing less. But what do you hear with your rabbit ears, I wonder?”

  “Bah,” Elias tossed his head. “Take me home. I need to rescue my sister.”

  “With pleasure.” There was more than a hint of cheekiness in Augustus’s voice.

  “You’ll be having none of that tonight, I assure you.”

  “I’ll see.”

  “Where will we go once we have Bess, anyway?” Elias asked after a few minutes. “We can’t stay in Kitwick.”

  “I’m taking you to Town,” Augustus replied without missing a beat.

  Elias started in surprise. “You’re not serious.”

  “Dead serious.”

  “Holy fuck.”

  “I think that’s an oxymoron.”

  “Shut up, you ass. Are we really going to Town?”

  “If we can get your sister and I make it out of Kitwick alive, yes.”

  “Christ almighty.”

  “Have you forgiven me, then?” Augustus asked, resting his chin on Elias’s shoulder and squeezing his arms a little tighter.

  It took everything Elias had to keep from leaning into Augustus’s embrace. He tried to act as impassive as possible. “We’re not in Town yet, are we? And my sister is still trapped.”

  “You’re a stubborn fucker, aren’t you?”

  “You knew this when you fell in love with me.”

  “When I—” Augustus began indignantly. Elias would never let him live his confession down.

  “Do you deny it?” Elias held his breath. He was light-headed by the time Augustus answered.

  “No.”

  “Ha,” Elias said, leaning into Augustus’s chest. “Pederast.”

  * * * *

  Augustus led his horse around the back of the Peach and Pear, where he and Elias sought shelter in the stable as they planned further. They could not agree on a course of action.

  “God, I still find stables so…stimulating,” Augustus muttered midargument.

  “Do you need to tell me that?” Elias demanded, thinking of Augustus’s past beau. The one he could not be persuaded to stop courting on pain of being disowned. Why were they not together still?

  “Oh, my mistake. It might just be you,” Augustus said, laying a hand on Elias’s waist.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Elias said, stepping away.

  “Right. You like me better behind, anyway, don’t you?”

  “Ugh, fuck off!” Elias cried, stomping his foot. “We need to free Bess!”

  “Ah, sorry. Bess. Yes. Do you know where she is?”

  “Somewhere in the Peach and Pear last I could tell. Are there any candles lit?”

  “There was one in your and Bess’s room, with the silhouette of a person in the window,” Augustus said. “And the first floor was lit up like a yule log.”

  “I reckon they’re raiding the bar,” Elias muttered, scratching his head. “They can’t’ve left Bess alone upstairs, though, could they’ve?”

  “No idea. Honestly, what is their plan? Are they just expecting me to show up searching for my lady and fall into their arms?”

  “Probably? Presumably, no one knows Kenneth tipped you off.”

  “Ah.”

  “So we have that working in our favor.”

  “Indeed. I owe him a lot.”

  Elias chewed on his thumbnail. “You said you had two ideas for a distraction. I’m not letting you lure them away with a polka, or anything else, for that matter, so forget about that one. Your other idea was to light a fire.”

  “Er, yes. Although I don’t think that would be wise.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, fires are dangerous and unpredictable, and they have no alliances. A fire will burn you as easily as it will burn the soldiers.”

  “We just need to be clever about it,” Elias countered.

  “There’s a breeze,” Augustus argued. “Not to mention you’ve a shipload of booze in the cellar.”

  “I didn’t say we’d burn the whole fucking inn down!”

  “It might happen whether we intend it or not, I told you, fires cannot be controlled.”

  “Any other ideas?” Elias demanded.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Augustus said.

  “What is it?”

  “Tell them you know where I am, and send them off.”

  “Excuse me?” Elias snapped. “Did I just see you passing by in the lane?”

  “You went to see Mr. Sweeton, and I accosted you on the way, demanding information on Bess. You hate me because you think I was never good enough for your sister, and now she’s been arrested, so you’ll rat me out in the blink of an eye. Mr. Sweeton rode off after me into the woods and might need help. I’m a deadeye murdering bastard, after all.”

  Elias sniffed. It was plausible. “Fine. I did say unsavory things about you when they came for Bess, anyway, so it’s not a stretch I would report you.” Augustus tsked in disapproval. “So some of them leave, but not all of them. Then what?”

  “I’ll handle them.”

  “What, will you blow their brains out?” Elias asked, smirking.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to get Bess and your father out safely.”

  “My father!”

  “Yes.”

  Elias bit back a curse. Did Augustus plan on taking all of them to Town?

  “I hate this plan, by the way,” Elias said. “It’s got so many things wrong with it.”

  “Do you have a
ny better ideas, other than burning Kitwick down?”

  “No.”

  “Well then?”

  “Fine. Fine. I’ll go pound on the door and tell them I have information. Let’s see if they’ll even listen to me.” Elias turned to leave, but Augustus grabbed his wrist. He froze.

  “Be careful,” Augustus murmured. “I’ll be watching. I’ll come if there’s any sign of danger, even if there’s a whole goddamn platoon in there.”

  “Chivalrous fuck,” Elias complained.

  “Only for you,” Augustus replied, and let him go.

  * * * *

  Elias pounded on the front door of the inn. “Hey!” he roared. “Hey! I have some very important information for you!”

  He heard heavy, uneven footfalls, and then the door swung open. The smell of alcohol immediately assaulted his nostrils. Lord Nelson, who had been trapped inside, gave a meow of recognition on his way past Elias as he darted into the night.

  “Didn’t I get rid of you already?” a man demanded. “I remember the wiggly eyes.”

  “Maybe,” Elias said carelessly. He knew he must try to act as normal as possible.

  “Then what’re you doing back here?”

  “Aside from the fact that this is my home, I have some information for you.”

  “And what would that be, pretty-boy?”

  God, did everyone in the militia use that term? “The object of your search has been spotted.”

  “Not by you, I expect.”

  “Obviously. I went to visit Mr. Sweeton to ask after why my home was invaded by a bunch of malodorous cowards, and Mr. Westwood accosted me, demanding information on my sister. I was rather brusque with him, and he continued to berate me, and then Mr. Sweeton came out and Mr. Westwood fled. Mr. Sweeton got on his horse and chased after him, and I have heard nothing of either since. I do believe they headed into the woods.”

  “How long ago was that?” the redcoat asked, sounding excited.

  “Perhaps a quarter of an hour is when I heard the last of them.”

  “In the wood, you say?”

  “Yes, to the north of Kitwick.”

  “Oi!” the redcoat yelled. “Keys! Kingsley! Haddington!” There were halfhearted grunts of recognition. “Shit, they’re too drunk for this,” he muttered. “Come in a second. I have to get the others.”