The Hero Least Likely

by Darcy Burke

  FIVE

  As the sun began to set, Ethan looked over at Audrey. They’d barely exchanged words since he’d told her about killing Four-Finger Tom, and that had been hours ago. They’d stopped briefly for lunch and here and there for personal reasons, but for the most part, they’d ridden relentlessly. He wanted to put as many miles between him and London as possible. But then what? Hang around Wootton Bassett until when? Forever? His skin itched at the prospect of settling into a tiny village in the middle of the countryside.

  “Are we going to stop soon?” Exhaustion weighted her tone, and her posture was that of a person who was tired of sitting atop a horse. Ethan knew this because he was certain it mirrored his own.

  He was weary, sore from being in the saddle so long, and his arm ached almost unbearably at times. He wanted to stop, but there was no village in sight. “I don’t know if we’ll find a place to stay before it gets dark. We may just have to make do with something else.”

  She moved her horse closer beside him, walking them side-by-side. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we may need to sleep wherever we find shelter. Provided we even find any.”

  She didn’t respond and kept her face directed straight ahead. He ought to apologize for frightening her earlier. He had frightened her—he was certain of it. He’d admitted to not only thievery but murder.

  He’d been considering what to do, trying to formulate a plan. Taking her out of London had been a gut reaction. Yes, she’d been in danger from Gin Jimmy, but Ethan wondered if he couldn’t have asked Jason to ensure her safety. He was sure his brother would’ve agreed. If only Ethan had trusted him. Or even thought of trusting him. Christ, having an ally—a true, blood ally—was going to take getting used to.

  He glanced at Audrey again, wilting in her saddle. His future was as uncertain as ever. She was a burden he couldn’t really afford, and he’d done what he’d set out to do—he’d gotten her out of London. He didn’t expect Gin Jimmy or Bow Street, who likely couldn’t spare a Runner for a merry chase, would follow them this far out. Ethan’s mind kept returning to the obvious solution: as soon as they reached Wootton Bassett, he’d leave her with her friends—she’d be safe this far from London—and be on his way.

  At last, a small building came into view. It sat at the edge of a large enclosure with a dozen or so sheep grazing in the golden rays of the setting sun filtering through the mottled clouds.

  “Will that work?” she asked, eyeing the shelter.

  “Let’s find out.” He kicked his horse into a canter and stopped at the edge of the enclosure. He dismounted, his wounds protesting angrily with the movement. His legs wobbled, like they were made of pudding. He tied the horse to the fence and climbed over to investigate the building.

  It was small, maybe twelve by fifteen feet, with three walls and support posts along the open side that faced the pasture. The dirt floor was littered with hay. Unfortunately, there were no blankets, but if they kept riding in search of something better they might not find anything else. This was, at least, shelter.

  He limped back to the fence, Christ, his arse was sore. She was still in the saddle. Smart girl. He didn’t really want to get back on his horse now that he was off.

  “It’s a shelter with a dirt floor.” He’d slept in worse.

  “Do you think we’ll find anything better?”

  He glanced at the rapidly darkening sky. “Probably not before the sun sets.”

  “Then we should stay here.” She was already sliding off her mount, before he could rush to her aid. Not that he would be much help with his arm. Some gentleman he was turning out to be.

  He wanted to hit something or yell at someone. Those were the ways he typically expended his frustrated energy. Definitely not the actions of a gentleman. But hadn’t he well and truly botched that effort? There was no hope for him now. If he returned to London, he’d be hanged. The best he could hope for was to start over somewhere else unless he wanted to take his chances with Teague and the rest of Bow Street. The glaring answer was hell no, but hadn’t his life changed? He had his brother he could call upon, and perhaps even Lord Daniel Carlyle, a viscount who was a former magistrate. Ethan had saved his life once—and the life of his wife. Would he come to Ethan’s aid? Though he owed Ethan at least one favor, if not two for past assistances, in Ethan’s experience people didn’t help each other unless there was something in it for them, and Ethan had nothing to offer any of them.

  Audrey tied her horse beside his, then removed the food pack from her saddle and came to the fence. It was only four feet high, so she handed the bag to Ethan and then hoisted herself up and over. Her skirts caught, but Ethan flipped them over so she could jump down unhindered.

  “I’ll take care of the horses in a minute,” Ethan said, following her into the shelter.

  She surveyed the interior and then turned toward him. “I suppose it’s better than nothing. I’ll set out some food.” She held her hand out for him to return the food bag.

  “Don’t bother.” He pulled a small hunk of cheese from the bag before transferring the pack to her. “I’ll just eat before I tend the animals.”

  Her eyes tentatively met his. “Is this how it’s going to be? You tell me you killed someone and that’s it? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Indeed, without me, you’d be God-knows-where since your money was stolen.”

  He arched a brow at her. “You assume my money would’ve been stolen had you not accompanied me.”

  She blanched. He bit back an apology, hating that he’d grown soft in recent weeks. But why, hadn’t he wanted to change? If he wanted to shirk the mantle of his former life, what better way than to show kindness, especially to her of all people? “Pardon me,” he said softly. Yes, she deserved at least that. And a modicum of honesty. “I think you’ll be safe in Wootton Bassett. I can’t believe Gin Jimmy would follow us this far from London.”

  She clutched the bag and stared at him. “Are you planning to abandon me?”

  His temper—frayed by travel, his wounds, and most importantly, the lack of a plan—threatened to blow apart. He wiped his hand over his brow and scrubbed at his eyes for a moment. When he looked at her again, she was still watching him but there was a wariness in her gaze. “I’m not abandoning you. I got you out of London, and Gin Jimmy’s men won’t leave the city. These people in Wootton Bassett are your friends. Staying with them is much better than a life on the run.”

  “And then what? I’m to stay there forever? Alone?”

  He cringed at the disappointment in her questions. He hadn’t meant to . . . what, give her hope? For what? He leaned toward her, narrowing his eyes. “What would you have me do? As you so accurately surmised, I’m a criminal, not a gentleman who’s going to whisk you away to some fantasy life.”

  She drew the bag closer to her chest, maybe as protection. Or maybe she just wanted to hold on to something because she felt completely adrift, which was precisely how he felt. “I don’t think you want to be a criminal.”

  He’d never really wanted to be. But it had been better than begging. Or dying. “I killed that boy because I had to. His was marginalizing me to the point where I would’ve been excised from the gang.”

  She blinked. “Excised?”

  “Killed.”

  “You had no choice?”

  “Not if I wanted to live, Audrey.” It was the first time he’d used her given name in a moment that hadn’t involved them defending their lives and he liked the way it tasted on his tongue. “I lived on the streets. After my mother died, I had no one to turn to, no one to care for me. I made the most of my life with what I could.”

  That life seemed so far away, like someone else’s existence.

  “You have that chance again now,” she said softly. “You can change what you are, who you want to be.”

  He’d been trying to, before this Wolverton mess. “All I ever wanted was to bring my brother pain. To hurt him the way he and his mother had hurt me.” />
  The pain in her eyes had warmed to empathy. At least he thought it might be—he couldn’t be certain since he’d only rarely been shown any. “Why?” she asked.

  There was no reason not to tell her. It wasn’t a secret, and it didn’t mean he trusted her. The facts of his life were just that—cold facts that he couldn’t change. “When my mother died, I had nothing. No one, save her final protector.” An image of Davis’s gray and desperate expression just before the hood had fallen over his face on hanging day swam before Ethan. “But he was a criminal, and I’d been raised to be a gentleman. I was supposed to go to Oxford.” The pain of his lost dreams superseded the agony in his arm.

  “I went to Jason and his mother, begged them to take me in. She laughed in my face. Then spit on me.” His left hand involuntarily curled into a fist.

  “Jason didn’t intervene?”

  Ethan’s answering laugh was hollow and dark, just like his husk of a heart. “Why would he? He hated me almost as much as she did. She threw me back into the street and I had no choice but to take Davis’s protection. Which meant working with him as a thief-taker.”

  Her brow furrowed. “That’s not a terrible thing.”

  “It is when he’s setting up the thefts and sending the thieves to prison or worse. And when he planned to use me in the same fashion.”

  “What do you mean?” The horror in her question matched the familiar sense of betrayal that roiled in his gut.

  “He was being investigated and had to deflect suspicion from himself. He set me up to take the fall for him, but I figured that out, and he’s the one who swung.”

  And that had been the beginning of Ethan’s downfall. From there, he’d joined the theft gang run by Four-Finger Tom. After taking that over, he’d gained respect and power. Soon after, he’d begun to work for Gin Jimmy’s crew, working his way up over the years until he’d become one of Jimmy’s most trusted men.

  Audrey set the bag down and moved toward him. Her eyes were soft, caring. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not even his mother when he’d been a young boy. He couldn’t bear her concern. He didn’t deserve something so pure. He backed away. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

  “Wait.” She touched his arm and it was like the jolt of energy one experienced just before a fight or a theft. But a thousand times better. “I can’t imagine the life you’ve led, what you’ve overcome . . .”

  He didn’t want her pity, and he didn’t deserve her understanding. “No, you can’t imagine. And this is why we’ll be parting ways. I’m a criminal and that’s all I’ll ever be.” The knowledge speared through him until he wanted to retch.

  She pressed her fingers into his forearm. “Why were you learning to waltz? You were behaving like a gentleman. All of London thinks you’re the charming, long-lost half-brother of Jason Lockwood.”

  “Aren’t I?” He extracted his elbow from her grip. “I am the long-lost brother of Jason Lockwood, but rest assured: I’m no gentleman.”

  Later that night, Audrey huddled into the corner of the sheep barn. She’d curled into a ball on her side, facing the pasture where the murky shapes of distant shrubs and trees along the perimeter rose out of the near darkness. The moon was faint, its glow dimming and brightening as clouds drifted across it.

  She ought to close her eyes and try to sleep, but she was too cold. Shivers racked her body intermittently, but there was no help for it unless she wanted to snuggle up with Mr. Locke. Right now, she wasn’t sure he was someone she wanted to snuggle with.

  He’d taken quite a long time to deal with the horses. When he’d finally returned, she’d already eaten and had replayed his revelations dozens of time in her head. She could scarcely believe all he’d told her, yet it made sense, given everything she’d seen him do. No gentleman would know how to steal a cabriolet or fight the intruders in her grandfather’s house or kill a highwayman. Then again, no gentlewoman ought to know how to fire a gun, much less shoot a man. Yes, appearances could be deceiving and she would try not to judge.

  At last she closed her eyes. If she didn’t sleep, she’d be miserable tomorrow, and they needed to make good time to reach Wootton Bassett. She thought of a fire and a warm bed. And a bath. How divine that would be.

  She turned over, thinking it might be better to face the wall, where her warm breath might bounce off the wood and at least her nose wouldn’t be frozen. It was pathetic reasoning, but it was all she had.

  A few minutes later she nearly jumped out of her skin when something came over her shoulders. Her eyes shot open and she turned her head to see Mr. Locke tucking his coat around her. He turned to go.

  “Don’t.” It wasn’t fair that he should sleep in his shirtsleeves. She knew it was horribly improper, but what place did propriety have when one was freezing? “Sleep here. We’ll share the coat.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “Nothing I have done in the past two days has been wise. Don’t make me start now.”

  His soft chuckle gave her a burst of warmth. “If you insist.”

  “I do.” She held the coat up to let him under it.

  He settled down behind her and inserted himself beneath the edge of the coat, leaving most of the garment covering her. She felt his heat, but he wasn’t as close as he’d been when they’d ridden the same horse. “Move closer for heaven’s sake. I want to be warm, don’t you?”

  “You’re a managing chit, do you know that?” He slid closer until his chest pressed against her back. “Better?”

  “Much.” His heat was already seeping into her. He’d tried to threaten her earlier. By all accounts she should be frightened of him, but she wasn’t. He made her feel protected and secure. She’d heard the pain when he’d recounted his youth, and she wanted him to experience the sensation of knowing that someone cared what happened to him, that someone wanted to keep him safe. “How’s your arm? I wish you would’ve let me check it earlier.” He’d insisted it was fine, but she knew he was just trying to increase the distance between them.

  “I’ll let you check it when we arrive tomorrow, all right?”

  “Or, I could take a look at in the morning.”

  “I want to be on our way as soon as it’s light.”

  So they could get to Wootton Bassett and he could dump her there. That gave her tomorrow—and tonight—to convince him otherwise. “What will you do when you leave Wootton Bassett?” Her breath hitched as she awaited his answer.

  “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “I think you should stay. Just for a bit. You need to rest your arm.” Her brain seized on a way to keep him from leaving. She turned to look at him. “You can’t leave until after I take your stitches out. You’ll need to stay for at least a week.”

  The muted light from the moon cast a halo about his head and made his features barely visible. The edge of his mouth ticked up. “I will?”

  “Yes. I insist.”

  “You do like to manage,” he murmured. “But no, I won’t stay that long. I’ll find someone to remove my sutures.”

  “It doesn’t sound as if you have a plan. Why not stay until you do?”

  He was quiet a moment, perhaps considering. “If I tell you I’ll think about it, will you let me sleep?”

  It was as much as she could expect. She’d continue her campaign tomorrow. “Yes.” Another idea struck her. “What am I to tell Miranda and her husband? That I just came for a visit by myself? Or will you wait to leave until after you’ve met them?” Maybe then it would be harder for him to depart.

  “It’s probably best for everyone if I don’t meet them, don’t you think?” He shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. I’m afraid of what you think. It’s much easier and cleaner if I see you to your friends’ house and be on my way before making anyone’s acquaintance.”

  Audrey deflated. He sounded resolute. Still, she could try to come up with some other plan tomorrow. For now, exhaustion was starting to get the better of
her. She turned to her side so that her back was against his chest once more.

  She listened to his breathing, deep and sure, and let it flow through her until his proximity and heat lulled her body into relaxing. As sleep threatened, she voiced just one more thing. “I know you want to leave me in Wootton Bassett, but if you decide to go to America, I hope you’ll take me with you.”

  He did nothing to indicate he’d heard her, which was just as well. Likely, he would have reconfirmed his plan to drop her off and behave as if the last two days had never happened. As if the last two days hadn’t altered her life in the most unchangeable of ways.

  Her body twitched as sleep claimed her.

  SIX

  As dusk fell the next day, Ethan glanced over at Audrey. He was glad they were riding into Wootton Bassett at last. She looked tired and had every reason to be, considering how little he’d allowed her to rest the past two days. They’d been awakened just after dawn that morning by the sheep farmer who owned the barn they’d been sleeping in. He’d damned their souls as he’d run them off. Ethan had expected Audrey to be upset, but she’d been quite pleasant all day. In fact, she was bewilderingly cheery toward him. His revelations hadn’t sparked fear, disgust, or worst of all, pity. She treated him much the same as she’d done when he’d been her waltzing student.

  His gaze again strayed to her riding beside him, as it had many times during their journey. He’d studied her greatly, the subtle turn of her nose at the very tip, the graceful sweep of her brows, the supple curve of her lips. She appeared so elegant, despite the hopeless creases in her gown and the absolute ramshackle mess of her hair trying to fight its way from beneath her bonnet. Elegant and composed. Maybe it was the way she carried herself. Or the commitment she’d demonstrated to this adventure she’d chosen. Or the way she hadn’t run screaming when he’d revealed he’d murdered someone.