A Refuge for Rosanna

by Susan Karsten

  The beast is strong, I’ll give him that much. “You’ll not find it easy to manipulate me into any compromised entanglement for it will be your word against mine.” Rosanna wriggled and tried to strike Lord Halburt’s face, but he captured her free hand with his strong right arm.

  “I’ll consider letting you go and keeping silent about your loose conduct on two conditions. One, turn over the real treasure to me, and two, give me a kiss.”

  “That, I’ll never do.”

  “So you say.” He bent his head to capture his kiss, and Rosanna screamed in his ear. He loosened his hold, half dropped her, half set her down, staggered a few steps away, and clutched his ear.

  He reached toward her again, hands clenched into a claw-like position. “You vixen! You’ll pay for that!”

  “Look, behind you!” Rosanna shrieked, hoping to avoid being clawed by the enraged nobleman.

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  “I’ll not fall for that” Halburt snarled as he grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip.

  Rosanna’s heart sank, for she knew that she was truly alone with the enraged neighbor. She’d gone to extremes to avoid entanglements, yet fell into the clutches of a mercenary, mad, suitor.

  Appeasement seemed the best course at the moment—she wouldn’t put it past him to resort to further violence against her. “Oh, I thought I heard someone.”

  “Have you heard of Gretna Green? For that is where we are headed.”

  “I’ve only heard of consenting couples running to the border, not abductors and unwilling brides.”

  “Oh, you’ll be willing after a night or two or three of ruin…I mean pleasure, at the inns along the way.”

  She quailed at his words, foreseeing that he meant each one and was deranged by his lust for wealth. “Never.”

  “Come along quiet-like now. That’s a girl.”

  He gave the command as if to a horse, or a favorite dog. She complied, however, stumbling along the path as he dragged her with his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm.

  ~*~

  Reaching the top of the steps, Rosanna searched the tall grass for Dot. Nowhere in sight. The girl, so reliable—where was she?

  “Oh, I see you are looking for that little chit of a maid? She’s been taken out of commission.”

  “What? You haven’t…”

  Halburt’s eyes glittered. “Settle down, she’s only been removed from play, like a pawn in a game of chess, not killed. What do you think me, a murderer?”

  Mad, you’re mad. “Not necessarily. I just want my lady’s maid. You know how a lady wants her maid with her when she’s to be wed?”

  “You’ve got my loving care, you don’t need your servant along. We’ll go this way.”

  Rosanna’s heart sank. Fear, apprehension, and dread mingled in a fog of dismay which her mind refused to grasp. The truth was too hard to bear, and she retreated into a stupor of distant echoes—reality fading into sorrow. She staggered along as he dragged her through the woods, taking a trail she’d never seen before.

  The distinctive sound of jangling harnesses snapped her to alertness. She wrenched her arm, hoping to free it, but his grip still clamped like iron. The path emerged onto an overgrown track, barely wide enough to accommodate the axle width of a massive black closed carriage.

  “Up you go, Miss Cabot.”

  He shoved her up the steps and she fell onto the floorboards of the conveyance. As she scrambled to rise, Halburt lurched in, slammed shut the door, and hovered over her. The coach began to move.

  “If you choose to sit, I’ll allow it. But, be warned, the doors are locked, and the outriders are all armed and instructed to incapacitate anyone who attempts to flee this vehicle.”

  She cringed on the floor, preferring not to sit up as if the situation was normal. “So, your minions would shoot a woman? A woman who is of high standing, not a doxy, or criminal?”

  “Their concern is only for the reward promised upon the successful completion of this journey, not upon the caliber of person they may be required to injure.”

  “I’ll be missed, you know. Someone will come after me.” She lifted her head to ascertain how her words affected him.

  He crossed his legs, folded his arms, and lifted his chin. She sensed him seeking the best angle of his jaw for her to admire. “The way I see it, Miss Cabot, is thus.” He flung out one arm, in an exhorting gesture. “Your household staff expects that you have gone on a long walk, nay, assignation. No alarm shall be raised for several hours, then a search will be made, taking up further hours and by that time, we will be well out of reach of any pursuit.”

  “I don’t agree, you scoundrel. You’ll see.”

  “Get up off the floor. Relax. You may as well accept your fate. There are worse things than being married to me—a lord of the realm. In good standing, mind you—no lost fortune, no scandal. No one will ever need to find out the secrets of the beginnings of our union.”

  Contemplating such a future caused black despair to roost in Rosanna’s heart, but she wasn’t done hoping. She hitched up onto the seat facing her tormentor, and brushed her hands down her arms, as if trying to remove the soiling of his actions. Failing this, she lifted her prayers to the Lord. Please deliver me and protect me, Amen.

  “Miss Cabot,” Halburt said with a sneer, “Feel free to rest your lovely head back upon the squabs. We will not arrive at our lodging for several, nay many, hours. I’d hate for you to disembark at our love-nest at less than your best.”

  Choosing to remain silent, Rosanna’s mind worked furiously at calculating the truth of Halburt’s words. Would anyone miss her? What had he done with Dot? How long before anyone at home—the word ‘home’ stung her heart with longing—would notice her missing? If not missed for a few hours, even a rider on a fast horse couldn’t catch up to them before Lord Halburt forced her to her fate at an inn.

  A thunderous jolt rocked the coach and Halburt, never taking his eyes off Rosanna, slid open the window and called out to the coachman, “What was that?”

  “Just a dip. A rut—but we are upright and steady now, sir.”

  “All right, be quick and get us across the River Esk and into Northampton by cock’s crow, and all will be well for you.”

  Rosanna caught the words cock’s crow and a droplet of hope dampened her despair. Only a bud, not a flowering, but it helped. That meant he’d run the coach all day and night, changing horses along the way, and only then stopping at an inn sometime the next morning. Perhaps her ruin could be postponed, and rescue would arrive in time.

  Halburt obsessively checked the door locks, and patted his waistcoat where he’d secreted the key over and over. He repeatedly smoothed his hair, brushed his coat and breeches, and examined his shiny boots.

  Pretending to sleep, Rosanna chose to say nothing more. Soon, actual sleep took over and the blissful relief of slumber gave a respite from her ordeal.

  ~*~

  On the road home to his cottage, Peter sagged in the saddle. Having used one of his mother’s lesser jewels as temporary currency with the stable in town, he now owned a respectable mount—something he’d sorely missed during his recent impoverished days.

  As much as he was pleased to have a horse again, dismal, hopeless fears surrounded him. Aching for the chance to win Rosanna, he saw no way around her antipathy.

  A soft wailing reached his consciousness. Was someone hurt? The sound came from somewhere ahead—it had to be around the next bend. He spurred the horse, then reined in when a curious bundle staggering down the road appeared before his eyes.

  A small woman, taking shuffling steps, was wrapped in what looked like a carpet runner, tied round with rope. A gag between her teeth kept her cries muted, and the bindings made her steps laughably short.

  “Whoa.” He patted the jittery mount, then swung down. “Who are you? What misfortune’s overtaken you?”

  The small female tottered up to him, and he saw that she was familiar. It was Dot, Rosanna’s maid. He moved behind he
r and untied the cloth gag.

  She shrieked. “Help!”

  “Hush, girl. I am help. Calm down, I’ll have you freed from this ghastly rug in a moment or two.”

  He walked around her, unwinding the rope, stopping now and then to untie a fiendish knot. “Who did this to you?”

  “I don’t know who they was. But they grabbed me by the top of the steps to the waterfall. They dragged me through the woods, bound me and threw me into the luggage boot of a carriage.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “The Lord God gave me a way out. I was peeking out of the lid, which I pushed up with me head, guessing whether to jump out or not. Right then, the carriage hit a large rut and during the racket and banging of the vehicle, I rolled on out.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, the Lord preserved me. Not only did I land well, but the carpet padded me, and I rolled right off into the ditch. The men must’ve had their eyes on a rough patch of road ahead.” She hugged her arms and gave a tremble.

  “Here, I will put you upon my horse and get you back to your mistress.” He swung into the saddle, then hoisted her on behind himself. He wheeled the horse around in the direction of the manor house. “Hang on.”

  Her voice shook, and she trembled against his back. “Sir?”

  “Yes, Dot? What is it? Speak up. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.”

  “It’s about getting me back to me mistress.”

  “What about that?”

  “Umm, I don’t know if she got back to the house.”

  “Got back?”

  “Yes, sir. She was down in the glen. She told me to wait up top.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “I dunno. Seemed like she might have been meeting someone.”

  Peter spurred the horse, disregarding the squeals coming from Dot, and her chokehold around his neck. A full gallop brought him to the house. A groom ran up, Peter threw him the reins. “Dot, you’ll be fine. Go around to Mrs. Good. She’ll know what to do for you.”

  He leapt up the steps and wrenched open the door to face a surprised butler. “Perkins. Is Miss Cabot here?”

  “No, she went on a walk with her maid. Oh, that reminds me, we had a bit of a commotion and I neglected to have a message taken over to you.” Perkins shuffled to the hall table and rummaged for a few moments. “Hmm. It looks as though it’s gone. Now, who would have taken it, with the footmen down with lungrot?”

  “Never mind that. Get Miss Barton and Miss Moore. Now.”

  Affronted, Perkins nevertheless collected himself. “They are both in here.” He went to the door of the morning room and opened it. “Lord Winstead,” he intoned on his best dignity.

  “Thank you, Perkins, that will be all for now, but stay at hand.”

  Both ladies rose and turned toward him.

  Ellie’s hand rose to her throat and her already pale skin went ashen.

  Miss Barton gripped the back of her chair with one hand and clutched the bib of her apron with the other. “What’s wrong, Lord Winstead?”

  “I believe Miss Cabot is…well…in trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Ellie’s voice came out a whisper and she looked greatly alarmed.

  “I came upon Dot, gagged and bound, on the road. When I loosened her bonds, she told me she’d been thrown into the baggage compartment of a coach and only by God’s intervention was able to heave herself out at an opportune moment.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Miss Barton’s voice quivered, and tears pooled in her eyes.

  “I don’t know. But Dot said she thought Miss Cabot was meeting someone in the glen. I plan to go there immediately, on foot, since that will be quickest. But I’d like you two to get a carriage to the fork of the north road. Bring my horse, too. Do you understand? She might need you.”

  His heart throbbed with urgency as he ran to the head of the trail. The path’s uneven surface kept him focused and without a trip or a stumble he arrived at the top of the steps. Taking them two at a time, he breathed a prayer. Oh, God. Have mercy, Help.

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  Wanting to leap straight over the stream, he instead made swift, but careful progress across the very stones his love trod only a short time ago.

  Down the path, he ran and vaulted the downed tree, forged ahead past the hawthorn, and stopped in his tracks upon realizing the site held not his darling. She was not there. But, what was that? Scuff marks in the dirt. He didn’t remember anything like that—oh yes, that was a drag mark. And—what is that? Paper. He snatched at a folded white object caught in the undergrowth.

  The faint scent of flowers wafted from the fine linen stationery. Unfolding it with speed, he was shocked to see it was a note to himself. His hand rose to push his hair out of the way, so he could read in the dim light.

  Dearest friend, he read, and his heart skipped a beat. Eyes scanned the remaining words, landing on the pertinent ones: meet me at the falls, at one o’clock, this afternoon.

  Though he wanted to drink in the mercy she held out to him in the rest of the letter, he had no time for emotions. He took care to fold the letter and put it inside his shirt, and then dashed toward the stream, crossing it in a trice, and bounded up the steps.

  ~*~

  “I’m jolted to pieces. And what about breakfast? You’re not much of a courtier if you think this trip will do anything to soften me toward you.” Rosanna used deceit with the cur, believing it justified.

  “Glad you are having reasonable thoughts about me. I knew you’d come to your senses.”

  Seething, Rosanna held her tongue and turned her face away, making a show of looking out the window, but simply avoiding more interaction with her abductor. She put her hand inside her sadly crushed bonnet, pressed out the dents, donned it, and then tied the strings with determined motions. I must stay alert. At an inn, there might be a way to escape.

  When the carriage rolled to a halt, it stood directly in front the door of a rustic inn.

  Halburt unlocked the carriage door, assisted Rosanna down, and ushered her straight into the inn, using an iron grip. Once in the musty hall, she wrenched her arm away. “You’ve bruised my arm enough this trip. I need breakfast, since I am near to perishing from lack of food and water.”

  “Step through there. The innkeeper’s wife will bring in a repast for us. I warn you, be silent about our arrangements, or it’s back into the carriage without food at this time.” He lifted his brows toward her. He then half lowered lids which gave him a ridiculous air—a failed attempt to mix dominance and appeal. That such a wicked fool sought to triumph over her caused her heart to lurch between determination and fear.

  She glanced around the room, to see if any guests looked like sympathetic sorts who would believe her unbelievable tale. But no promising folk lurked nearby, merely a few dirty, rough-hewn men who’d as soon laugh in her face than help her by the looks of them. No, for now, she’d bide her time, eat to retain her strength, and search for a weakness in her abductor’s plan.

  The innkeeper’s wife came in with a tray. Short and stout, she appeared clean, but had a downtrodden demeanor, and a meek voice.

  No help in that quarter, Rosanna sensed not to try. Not yet. She’d eat the porridge, drink the coffee, and watch for a chance.

  Halburt held up his cup and winked at her over the rim. “Never cared for coffee, myself.” He spoke as if they were the best of friends, simply sharing a light meal. “I much prefer the tradition of chocolate for breakfast. So, unfortunate they don’t have that here. I’ve settled for tea.”

  Rosanna’s stomach clenched, and she bit her tongue. She gave a noncommittal smile then glanced down at her bowl as though it were fascinating.

  He nodded to his servants who entered, having finished seeing to the horses and carriage. Halburt clattered his cup into its saucer. “I wonder—perhaps there’s a congenial parson in this town. Wouldn’t be any need for another long leg to our journey.”

  Bile rose in her throat and she b
ent over, retching.

  Halburt snapped his fingers toward the group of men. “Pass the girl a bucket.” He shoved it against her side. “Here. You mustn’t be a public disgrace.”

  Rosanna, still bent over, clutched the bucket like a lifeline and took some test breaths to see if the wave of nausea passed. “I need to visit the necessary. I don’t want to disgrace you, Lord Halburt.”

  “Shhh. Don’t say my name. Slack, you there, follow her out back to the necessary. Don’t lose her, or it’ll be your hide.”

  She took her cue and scampered out of the dining room holding her head low over the bucket and making excessive sound effects all the way.

  Unfortunately, when she came out of the structure, the servant inappropriately named Slack, of all things, stood right where she’d left him with a martial stance of hands on hips, feet apart, relaxed not one iota.

  “Look over there!” Rosanna pointed to a spot behind his head and got ready to knock him into the mud.

  But he refused to comply. He didn’t vary his gaze off her.

  “Fine. Humph.” Rosanna flounced past him and shoved the bucket into his hands, then re-entered the inn, Slack on her heels. The backyard was fenced anyway, and she probably wouldn’t have escaped, but for this bounder to be dogging her steps added insult to grave injury and she was now even more unhappy with Halburt, if that were possible.

  “So, you’re back. My minions will be watching er…protecting you while I locate the local clergy and investigate his level of cooperation with the lords of the land.” Halburt rose and shook a velvet purse toward Rosanna, clanking the coins. He stalked away.

  Rosanna diddled with her spoon, pretending to eat, while assessing the guards. One, with steely eyes, sat near the door with arms crossed, staring holes into her. Another sat at the table within arm’s reach of her. Another one lurked behind her, but she didn’t need to turn to look—since he breathed audibly.

  “Could someone call the mistress of this inn? I need more food.”

  The one by the door pounded his elbow against the wall, and bawled, “Good woman! More food for the lady.” He subsided into his stare, silent again.