Rescuing Lord Ravenscliffe (Regency Tales Book 2)

by Ari Thatcher

  “Yes, you in your brown gown and I in my dark green will be easily noticed by any hunters. At the least we should send Oscar for help.”

  “Na, milady. I’m not allowed ta leave yer alone.” Their young groom always toed the line when it came to his orders.

  Matilda’s lips thinned and her stern brow clearly expressed her feelings on the situation.

  A horse galloping their way ended all discussion. Agnes wouldn’t admit how her heart raced in fear at the sound. A hunter had no cause to ride that quickly.

  She sighed in relief when she saw the horse was riderless, but then she had a different worry. Where was the rider? “We should find the man who was on that horse. He could be hurt.”

  “He might have been set upon by a highwayman. We mustn’t continue in that direction. We’ll send Albert and one of the hands to investigate.” Matilda turned her horse toward the home.

  “We might be too late to help him if we do that. I’m going ahead. You may ride for Albert if you wish.”

  “Help whom? A robber? A poacher? You have no clue what might lie ahead.” Matilda huffed with all her older sister superiority. “However, I cannot let you venture into danger alone.”

  Agnes refused to comment. The two of them stood no better chance against danger than one alone. Happy to have gotten her way, she urged her mount onward.

  The woods were silent now. No more shooting, no horses running wild. It was almost too quiet. An icy chill ran down her spine.

  Halting suddenly, Matilda pointed. “I told you we should have gone for Albert.”

  A man lay crumpled in the dirt, unmoving.

  “Oscar, see if he still lives,” Agnes ordered.

  “We must return home, Agnes,” Matilda insisted. “We are in grave danger here.”

  Bending over the still figure, Oscar pushed the man onto his back. “He’s bleedin’ sairly, milady.”

  Agnes chewed her lower lip, torn by the desire to help versus the need for safety. She couldn’t allow Matilda to see her waver. “But is he alive?”

  “He’s breathin’.” The poor boy’s face was pale.

  “Now will you agree we must ask Albert for help, Agnes? None of us is strong enough to lift a man onto a horse.”

  Agnes urged her horse ahead to get a better look at the man. His features took her breath away. His strong brow and jaw weren’t overwhelming, rather they added to how handsome he was. She wondered what color his eyes were.

  They were blue.

  The realization struck her all at once. This was her mysterious rogue who’d kissed her without her permission. Although she supposed she had given him permission, which she shouldn’t have.

  And was so glad she did.

  Foolish gel. Mama would chide her for getting lost in her fantasies rather than seeking help. “Oscar, fetch the wagon.”

  “We cannot stay here with that man. It isn’t proper and it’s dangerous. I refuse to remain behind without Oscar, and I insist you come with me.”

  “I cannot leave him alone. We are at an impasse. Which way will it be, sister?” She and Matilda were always at an impasse. Sometimes her sister disagreed simply for the sake of disagreeing.

  Matilda’s eyes narrowed as they always did when she knew further argument was futile. “Oscar, fetch the wagon.”

  Agnes dismounted and approached the man. Part of her expected him to suddenly grab her leg, as she’d read in too many novels. He showed no sign of awareness of their presence, though. Bending down, she spoke. “Can you hear me?”

  “Agnes, get away from him. How do we know he’s the victim, not the villain?”

  “How do we know it wasn’t an accident?”

  Her sister stared into the woods. “How do we know someone isn’t out there watching us?”

  “Now you’re the one who’s being silly.” Agnes touched the fabric of the man’s shirt near the hole where the ball had torn it. The shirt was damp. “He hasn’t been here long.” She pressed her hand to his wound, but the bleeding wasn’t bad.

  “We knew that because of when his horse passed us. Which supports my idea that the shooter is nearby.”

  Pushing a lock of hair off his forehead, Agnes brushed away some dirt on his pale skin. How fine he’d look in a ballroom in a fine cutaway coat and cravat. She must do everything possible to see that he survived.

  And then she could ask his name.

  “Albert will take the man into town,” Matilda continued. “Someone there will care for him. Come away in case he wakes.”

  She didn’t want to “come away”. A nurturing desire to see him well again made her ache. She longed for his smile, the rich burr of his voice. His garments were made from fine fabric, not the rough material a worker would wear. “What if he’s a gentleman?”

  “No gentleman would ride about in his shirt and waistcoat. Where’s his coat? His cravat?”

  Unable to answer that, Agnes pointed at his feet. “His boots are polished. They’ve not seen heavy work.”

  Frustration rang in Matilda’s growl. “It doesn’t matter who he is. He’s a stranger. Grandmama wouldn’t allow us to bring him home to care for. You shouldn’t even want to do such a thing.”

  The man in question stirred, speaking just above a whisper. “Tavish…” He exhaled loudly.

  Agnes leaned closer. “Is your name Tavish?” It suited him. Rugged. Wild like the Highlands.

  “Come away, now!” The tightness in Matilda’s voice set her horse to prancing about.

  “Tavish—is that your name? Or someone we should seek?”

  “Brother.”

  Throwing Matilda a pleading glance, Agnes kept her voice even. “His brother might be hurt, too. We must look for him.”

  “We won’t do any such thing. The men will look while they take this man into Invernochty.”

  There was no point in continuing the argument. There was no way Agnes would let them take this man somewhere she couldn’t help him recover.

  The stranger grabbed Agnes’s wrist. “Have you seen him? Tavish, my brother.”

  “We found no one but you.”

  “Must na let him kill us.”

  “Tavish wants to kill you?”

  “There you have it,” Matilda barked. “Someone is trying to kill him, and will kill us, too, if we don’t ride home now.”

  “Uncle. Find Tavish. Do na allow our uncle’s men find us.”

  Agnes rose. “We must find his brother and hide them both.”

  “Sister, I refuse to go along with another of your schemes.”

  Matilda didn’t understand, of course. This was exactly the sort of adventure Agnes sought. A bit of mystery for them to uncover. Some intrigue to solve. She couldn’t have planned it better if she’d written the script herself. Now to work out the details.

  “We’ll take them to the folly. No one goes there. We won’t allow Grandmama to know what we’re doing, so there’ll be no dissention from her.”

  “Agnes…”

  Perfect. That was the tone Matilda took when she was about to give in. Agnes waited silently, turning her attention back to the bleeding man’s shoulder.

  “Well, then, you must allow one of the men to care for him. Surely one of them fought in the infantry and will know what to do.” Matilda turned her horse as if preparing to ride off. “Once Albert arrives, we’ll leave them to move the man. Grandmama will be worried about how long we’ve been riding.”

  Hearing the wagon in the distance, Agnes stood. “We must swear the men to secrecy.”

  “Albert won’t approve. He’s very faithful to Grandmama.”

  “He has no choice in the matter. He must do as he’s told. Come, we must prepare the folly for the men.”

  Chapter Three

  Ewan woke to a throbbing pain in his shoulder, and his mouth was as dry as sawdust. He didn’t recognize the room he was in. A single candle brightened the gloomy space, but daylight sneaked around heavy draperies.

  The only furniture was a selection of Georgia
n-style chairs and a single table where the candlestick sat. He lay on a thin straw mattress on the ground, an old blanket the only bedding keeping him warm.

  Memories of how he ended up there began to filter into his thoughts. Someone had come across him after he was shot. Two young ladies. Strangers. Then he’d been loaded into a wagon and taken on a jostling ride that caused him to lose consciousness again.

  Tavish. Where was his brother? He prayed Tavish was unhurt and had gone to seek help. Lennox, the magistrate, knew of Ewan’s concerns about his uncle Ben Walters.

  Hunger and thirst were his main concerns now. He tried to sit up, but the movement made his head spin. The people who’d rescued him must be nearby. “Hello?”

  Nothing stirred.

  Grunting, he pushed himself upright. “Is anyone here?” he called a bit louder. He was too weak to even yell. “Tavish.”

  Rusty hinges creaked and light spilled in through the doorway. “You’re awake.” The woman’s voice was sweet. In his situation, the sound was angelic.

  She quietly crossed the room and knelt beside him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a cravat in need of starch.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to clear his mind. “Where’s my brother?”

  “Our men have gone to search for him.”

  Ewan braced himself to rise, which made the room spin. “How long have I been here?”

  “Only a few hours. Let me get you some water.” She disappeared out the door and returned with a plain crock and a glass.

  Taking the water she poured, he drank it all in one breath. When he handed it back, he forced himself onto his knees. “I must find Tavish.”

  “Wait, you aren’t strong enough. Albert will return with him soon enough.”

  He collapsed back onto the mattress. “Thank you.” He wasn’t able to mount a horse in his condition.

  Tavish must have ridden for help. Ewan repeated that to himself in hope of believing it. His brother couldn’t be dead. Couldn’t.

  With a moan, he put his good arm across his face.

  “How can I help? I know nothing about nursing an injured person, but anything I may do, please ask. Who shot you? Why? Do you think it was a hunter who mistook you for a deer?”

  “My horse would make a verra lairge deer.” He couldn’t reveal what he knew. Couldn’t reveal to anyone that he survived the shooting until he had a plan to have Walters arrested. Once he knew Tavish was safe, he’d send word to Lennox.

  The lass’s voice was familiar. From her accent, she wasn’t from the area, yet she said her grandmother owned this property. Lowering his arm, he studied her. And smiled for the first time since he’d been shot. “You kissed me.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You didn’t fight me when I kissed you, then. Triflin’ details. Did ya enjoy it?” Flirting kept his mind off the pain.

  “Did I— How dare you. A gentleman shouldn’t ask such a thing.”

  “A man might wish to know whether a lady would prefer he did somethin’ different the second time.”

  “Different?” Her eyes grew round. “You are a rakehell, to be certain. I should never have brought you here. I should have listened to Matilda and had Albert take you to Invernochty.”

  “Where am I?”

  “This is Mrs. Thomson’s home.”

  He grinned wryly. At least those muscles didn’t hurt. “She has a verra small home.”

  “Oh, no. This is only the folly. If I opened the drapes you’d see her house. It’s better that Grandmama not know about you. That’s why I brought you here. The boys who helped me are sworn to secrecy. Do you live nearby? Or are you traveling? As soon as you’re strong enough, I can have someone take you home, or to an inn.”

  No one knew he was there. That was promising. He needed to remain hidden for now. “Is my horse here?”

  “No. He ran away. He didn’t look injured so we were more worried about the rider, which would be you, of course. My sister Matilda and I found you.”

  “I shall be eternally grateful for that.” He sighed and relaxed into the mattress. Talking drained him. He was fairly certain he was safe for the moment, unless the lass decided to sample another kiss. With a broad smile, he let sleep take over.

  ***

  Grunts and shuffling feet brought Ewan out of his slumber. A large man lowered Tavish on the mattress beside him. His brother was pale and unmoving. Blood matted the hair on the right side of his head.

  Tavish couldn’t be dead. Ewan placed a hand to his brother’s chest. His heartbeat was weak, but at least it was there.

  “I’ll send for the doctor.” The young lady hovered over them. “I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. He’s Tavish, your brother, isn’t he? Who are you?”

  Should he give his real name? She hadn’t recognized his face, but she might know him by name. He preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. “We don’t need a doctor. No one can know where we are. I’m Ewan.”

  “I’m Agnes, and that’s my sister Matilda hiding over there.”

  “I’m not hiding.” As if to prove her point, Matilda approached. “I simply didn’t see the necessity to stand where I’m not needed.”

  She must be the elder sister. Much more poised compared to the flighty chatterbox beside him. Both had dark hair, Matilda’s pulled up in a severe bun, and Agnes’s cut in short curls. He didn’t care for young ladies cutting their hair, but it suited Agnes’s fair round face.

  “We should send word to your family. They will be concerned,” Agnes said.

  “There’s no one.” She’d never know he lied. He’d not see her again after Tavish recovered and they could leave.

  Mrs. Thomson was the widow of a shipping company owner. Naturally she and her husband had moved in the same circle as Ewan’s parents, so she would recognize his name. He must delicately make it clear to the women that she couldn’t be told he was there.

  But first he needed sleep.

  ***

  “Agnes, come away from them,” Matilda demanded from her spot halfway across the room.

  “Why? They are sleeping. They can’t hurt us.”

  “We know nothing about them. He didn’t answer your questions about where they are from, or give you his full name.”

  Agnes dampened a cloth and wiped the blood from Tavish’s face. “What should we do? He said we shouldn’t send for the doctor, but they obviously need medical attention.”

  Crossing her arms, Matilda sighed. “Albert fought in the Peninsula. He should know what to do.”

  “Good idea. Oscar,” Agnes called to the boy waiting outside. “Fetch Albert and tell him he’s needed here.”

  “But milady—”

  “Do not argue. Go fetch Albert.”

  “You should have told Oscar to bring the wagon back. They could be highwaymen. We can’t have them so near Grandmama’s house.”

  “We discussed that already. I know they aren’t villains.” No villain could kiss so passionately. Nor be so handsome. “Once they are stronger, we’ll ask them more about who they are.”

  “I’ve told you repeatedly you can’t rescue every creature you find. These are people. You can’t cage them and feed them until they heal. At the very least, we should inform the magistrate. If they aren’t highwaymen, they must have family somewhere who will be concerned. I don’t believe what he said about having no one. It’s much too convenient.”

  Agnes rose and faced her sister. “Why must you always make the sensible choices? This is exactly the sort of scheme I long for. There’s a puzzle to solve—who are these men? Why were they shot? Besides, I think Ewan is rather handsome, don’t you?”

  Matilda looked at the ceiling as if praying for restraint. “A puzzle is one thing, but these men could be dangerous. You cannot risk our lives for a bit of adventure.”

  Unwilling to give in, Agnes stomped outside to watch for Albert.

  ***

  The next morning, Agnes slipped out of the kitchen with a b
asket of bread and cheese and a crock of milk. Cook had gone into the garden for herbs, so it had been easy to take the food unnoticed. How long she could get away with it, she wasn’t certain.

  Ewan sat in a chair, wide awake, when she entered the folly. “Good morning.”

  “It is a good morning, isn’t it? Are you in much pain?”

  “It’s na bad. I’ve had worse.”

  Just like a man to play down his injury. The way his eyebrows pulled together and the thin line of his lips—those lips he’d pressed against hers—told her exactly how much pain he was in. “I’m glad of it. And it’s scabbed over?”

  “Your man bandaged it well enough, I can’t see ta tell ye.” If it was possible for eyes to appear weary and teasing at one time, his did.

  And those eyes warmed her clear down to her toes. “Well, I uh, brought you more to eat. And drink. You must be quite hungry after being hurt. I sprained my ankle once and wanted nothing but Cook’s biscuits and a cup warm chocolate. I ate them three times a day! Mama complained I’d grow fat and she made me stop after four days. Can you believe that? She thought my ankle would be healed in four days.”

  “Ye must have been in a great deal of distress.” His eyes glimmered.

  Her cheeks grew warm and she looked away. “I didn’t mean to imply my ankle compared in any way with your shoulder. I couldn’t have died from my injury.”

  “As you can see, I haven’t died.” He glanced at his brother.

  “He’ll recover also, won’t he?”

  Ewan nodded. “Albert says so. Whoever shot us must not have very good aim.”

  “We can be grateful for that, now, can’t we?” Unable to stand still any longer and not wanting to beg for a kiss, Agnes snatched one of the napkins and began to dust the paintings on the wall. “I sent Oscar to fetch the magistrate.”

  He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Did ye?”

  “Of course. Someone was shooting on Grandmama’s land. Whether it was a poacher or someone hoping to rob you, they had no right to shoot here.”

  “And will the magistrate inform Mrs. Thomson?”

  “He won’t need to, will he? Oscar will bring him to the folly. Grandmama need never know.” She’d circled the room and returned to the table where Ewan sat. Spying some crumbs, she reached to wipe them.