by Rebecca King
“What do you want to know?”
“They are drunkards but are they wealthy? What does your father do? How long have you lived around here? How old are you by the way?”
“I am five and twenty,” Rose replied.
Her declaration stunned him and drew a swift glance from him that made her lips curve.
“You are not wed are you?” Barnaby demanded suddenly.
“No,” Rose shook her head but didn’t expand. She didn’t want to divulge that particular humiliation to the man and was grateful when he didn’t push. “There is no husband or suitor. My parents were wealthy but their fortune has dwindled considerably over the last several years. My father doesn’t do much at all these days except drink. He used to dabble in business here and there but I have never really gotten to the bottom of what he really did. I know he inherited fortunes from several elderly members of the family over the years and has lived off the money.”
A dissolute waster, Barnaby thought.
“Our house was part of an inheritance he received. I cannot remember where we lived when I was younger, but I do know that when I was about five years old, we moved into the house we call home and have been there ever since.”
There was a dispassionate tone in her voice that warned him her childhood hadn’t been a particularly happy one. He suspected that with wastrel parents nobody’s childhood could be enjoyable.
“What about you?” Rose asked.
Barnaby mentally winced and knew his questions had been foolish because they would naturally reciprocate a likewise enquiry.
“I think I had better leave that for another time as well,” Barnaby replied ruefully. “I will tell you everything, about me, what you saw, the people you are going to meet, and what will be expected of you in time, just not now.”
Rose sighed. Talking about her parents and home left her with a vague feeling of disquiet she couldn’t quite shake off. It felt as though she was shedding a skin and ridding herself of numerous illogical problems none of which she could resolve. Life with her parents was awkward and often humiliating and, in a way, she was glad to be able to leave it for a while. What that meant for her future she had no idea because at some point she had to face the consequences of simply vanishing for a while. Like Barnaby said though, not right now.
“You look pensive,” Barnaby murmured when he noticed her frowning down at her feet. “Are you missing home?”
“Not really,” Rose replied firmly.
Barnaby lifted his brows. “Oh?”
“I think it will do my parents good to be left to their own devices for a while. They will have to look after themselves for a change. It will give them something other than themselves to think about,” she declared firmly.
Unsurprised, Barnaby grinned. “You have a point there.”
“However, there is one problem,” Rose continued. Although she kept her face bland, she was inwardly bracing herself for what she was about to do. “I will go along with you to London and set aside my life to tell your colleagues what I saw. However, I want something from you in return.”
“I don’t think you are in a position to barter with me,” Barnaby said far too quietly for her peace of mind.
“I can leave,” Rose argued.
Barnaby snorted. “You won’t get very far.”
Rose looked askance at him.
“What do you want?” Barnaby said in a patronising tone.
Rose didn’t know if he expected her to ask to go shopping for a new dress or something and took a moment to contemplate how best to ask for what she wanted. Once settled in her mind, she lifted her brows at him.
“You are a total stranger to me. You are expecting me to follow you around the country on a whim, and leave behind everything I know,” she began.
“You are not leaving much worth keeping from the sound of it. Two drunkard parents who don’t give a damn about you can hardly be missed,” he declared flatly.
Rose winced and had to admit that he had a point. “I know, so I want your co-operation.”
“My co-operation?” Barnaby parroted. “In what?” He suspected he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“I want you to help me find somewhere else to live when I have done being your witness in London. While I don’t wish to reside in London, I would like a place of my own,” she admitted honestly. She had never told anyone of her wish before. It felt terribly reckless of her to confide in Barnaby, but she knew that garnering Barnaby’s assistance in this was a golden opportunity she should not allow to slip by.
“Don’t you want a husband?” As soon as he had asked, Barnaby closed his mouth with a snap. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea and think he was offering.
“No, I don’t,” she declared firmly. “That is the last thing I want.”
“Why?” The word was out before he could stop it.
“Because I have spent my life looking after grown up parents who have little capability of looking after themselves. While it isn’t the kind of life I would have chosen, it is at least familiar. I have no wish to rid myself of it only to saddle myself with an equally demanding husband.”
“Not all husbands are drunkards,” Barnaby protested.
“I know. I am not saying they are, but I just don’t wish to have to spend the rest of my days acceding to someone else’s demands, wants, and needs,” Rose replied.
Barnaby opened his mouth to argue but had to admit that she had a point.
“Not all husbands expect their wives to be biddable you know,” he murmured gently.
“I don’t have any intention of finding out,” Rose replied.
Barnaby looked at her warily. “So, what do you want my assistance with exactly?”
“I want you to help me find somewhere else to live when this is all over.”
“You want me to help you find somewhere else? What about your parents?” He protested. The last thing he wanted was for her father to assume Barnaby was turning her into his mistress by providing her with a home. Not that he would mind such an arrangement, however Rose was not mistress material. She was the kind of woman a man only bedded if he intended to put a ring on her finger.
“My parents won’t care. If they do, it won’t be me they want.” Rose shrugged.
“What do you mean?” He hated to acknowledge it but he was curious.
“I have recently come into some money. My father keeps telling me to contribute to the running of the household. I don’t see why I should give them my inheritance to drink. Especially given what they did at the Brown’s party recently.” Rose huddled down into the cloak and shivered miserably as she thought about that awful evening when she had been thoroughly humiliated by her own kith and kin.
“What did they do?” He glanced at her and wished he hadn’t asked. She looked so forlorn that he wanted to give her a hug. He couldn’t because his hands were busy, so he offered her an encouraging smile instead.
Rose swallowed. “They got drunk at a dinner party held by one of our neighbours. Well, I say neighbours. They live about five miles away from our house. My father drove the carriage there but once at the table drank constantly, to the point that he was nonsensical. My mother was no better and became loud and brash until she passed out. Some friends of the host offered the Browns assistance and took my parent’s home. I was glad to see them go.”
“What was wrong with that? I know the host was probably annoyed but at least they got home safely,” Barnaby said.
“The host was furious. Not only at the amount they imbibed but at having his dinner party broken up early by the departure of at least five of his guests. He also had to order his staff to drive me home and made no attempt to hide the inconvenience he had to go to in order to do so. It isn’t the first time things like this have happened either. My parents have slowly but surely whittled their way through their associates until they are hardly invited anywhere any more. Those who still associate with them are the kind of people who like to enjoy themselv
es just as enthusiastically if you get my meaning?”
Barnaby nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. “I am sorry, Rose.” He contemplated what to say to her. “So you don’t want to go back at all?”
“I cannot purchase a house by myself. I don’t know what I should be doing, and doubt anybody would sell a house to someone like me anyway,” she replied thoughtfully.
Barnaby knew that some vendors would be wary about selling a property to a single, unchaperoned female. She had every right to worry. He didn’t want to add to her troubles, but it was going to be deuced difficult for her to run a property by herself. However, he didn’t want to be the one to dash her hopes and aspirations. It was possible, and he suspected that if anybody could manage life by herself it would be Rose.
“I will offer you any assistance I can,” Barnaby began tentatively. “The only thing I would suggest is that you should think very carefully about what to you want while we are on our way to London. We are going to be travelling for a long while yet. Use that time to decide what you want to do with your future, where you want to live it, that kind of thing. If you are still adamant you don’t want to go back to live with your parents then that is your prerogative. I will of course then help you to find somewhere to your liking if you still wish it.”
“Thank you,” Rose replied. While it hadn’t been an outright promise of help, she knew it was the best she was going to get.
Pleased that in spite of everything matters weren’t turning out all that bad after all, Rose settled back against the seat and watched the shadows of the landscape roll past. Strangely it didn’t seem all that frightening any more.
CHAPTER SIX
“Stop this carriage,” Rose demanded suddenly. Her voice lashed through the silence so sharply that Barnaby jolted in shock.
“Oh, God,” Barnaby swore. “Don’t start that again.”
His groan was insulting; his put-upon sigh even more so, but Rose ignored him.
“Just stop the carriage. Look!” She commanded pointing to their right.
Barnaby followed the direction of her hand. It took him a moment to see what she had noticed. When he did, he immediately hauled back on the reins and stopped the carriage.
“Is it them?” she murmured quietly. She had no idea why she was whispering. The four men racing across the horizon would not be able to hear her. They were at least half a mile away.
“I think it is safe to assume that it is,” Barnaby replied. He studied the darkness over his shoulder and tried to shake off the deep sense of foreboding that settled over him. “We need to get off this road.”
“Can you see someone?” Rose glanced back but could see nothing but impenetrable blackness.
“No. It may be that group are moving into position to try to intercept us further down the road. I don’t doubt another group is coming up behind us as we speak,” he growled.
“What do we do?”
“Stay calm.” His tone was far sharper than he had intended. He forced himself to soften his voice as he continued. “We can’t go forward or back without being accosted by someone so we have to think of another way out of this area.”
“We can’t walk without some form of lighting,” Rose protested when she watched him eye her dress. “It is pitch-black out here. We will break our necks.”
“Keep your dress covered,” Barnaby ordered with a nod to her bright skirt clearly visible in the dark. “Cover it over with the cloak.”
Rose immediately flung the loose folds of the cloak over her knees, and waited to hear what he wanted to do.
“We need to ditch this carriage and ride on the horse. We don’t even have a saddle so it won’t be easy,” he muttered seemingly to himself.
“I can’t ride,” Rose confessed.
“It doesn’t matter. The horse is big enough to take the both of us, but not far.” He looked at her quite purposefully. “I don’t even know if it is happy to take a saddle but we have to risk it. I need you to stop asking questions and help me.”
“What do I do?” Rose asked looking around helplessly.
“Keep watch and tell me if you hear any horses.” Barnaby swiftly began to remove the straps and released the horse from the carriage before he made a makeshift bridle to use in lieu of proper reins. Murmuring soothing noises to the animal he carefully bridled the horse and rested his weight on the beast’s back to check if it would bear his weight. When the animal merely stood docilely munching on hedgerow, Barnaby vaulted onto its back and then off again. The horse continued to munch.
Rose watched him dismount with effortless grace and took several steps backward when he approached her purposefully.
“What are you doing?” she asked warily as she continued to back away.
“Getting you onto the horse.”
All she could do was squeak and cling to him as he deposited her onto the horse’s back before he climbed up behind her. The horse merely waited for a command before slowly and carefully picking his way through a nearby gate.
“Cover your dress up. We need to be as dark as possible,” Barnaby murmured.
Rose eyed the brilliant white of his shirt. “What are you going to do then?”
Barnaby glanced down and winced.
Rose removed the cloak and draped it over his shoulders. The cold air immediately bit at her bare skin. It was piercing but of little consequence in light of the danger surrounding them.
“’scuse,” he muttered. He placed a hand on her hip and slid her against him. Once she was as close as it was humanly possible to get he wrapped the ends of the cloak around her until her dress was largely covered. “That should do. Just sit still, and if you could hold it in place that would be better.”
Given that the horse was also black he knew they were practically invisible to anyone nearby. All they had to do was stay that way and not make the same mistakes as the men trying to set up a trap for them up ahead.
“I don’t like this,” Rose whispered when the horse stumbled over something none of them could see. “It is going to hurt itself if it continues to trip over things.”
Barnaby knew she was right but there was nothing else for it. Without daylight it was impossible to know if there was a village nearby where they could swap the animal for two less exhausted horses with saddles. For now they had to keep going and hope for the best.
“We won’t go far. We have to find somewhere dry where we can wait out the night,” Barnaby soothed. “Listen.”
Rose tipped her head and waited. At first she could hear nothing. When the faint sound of hoof beats began to penetrate the silence, a surge of horror swept through her that immediately made her cower against Barnaby’s solid strength.
“Over there.”
Rose looked in the direction of Barnaby’s nod and watched two riders approach the carriage. She didn’t need to see beneath the hoods of their cloaks to know that it was most probably Chadwick’s men. They studied the abandoned carriage for several minutes, their heads together in silent conversation, and then began to search the surrounding road.
“It’s them,” Barnaby muttered. “Whatever you do, sit perfectly still. We are covered. Unless they see your dress or my shirt, they have no way of picking us out when the night is as black as this.”
Rose felt sick at the thought of being at the mercy of such cold blooded killers out in the middle of nowhere like this. It was decidedly worse than being chased by them in the centre of the town. For some reason that hadn’t felt as sinister as this. The threat from the men on the land was almost tangible.
“Can we leave?”
“Not yet,” Barnaby whispered. “Just sit tight. We will wait until they leave. He will want to catch up with the men down the road to find out if they have seen us. Once they have gone we are going to double back but stay away from the roads. Just keep an eye out for anyone else nearby.”
Rose stiffened. “Do you think there are likely to be more of them?” The very thought was chilling.
“I
don’t know,” Barnaby murmured honestly.
They lapsed into watchful silence and waited for Chadwick’s men to leave.
“Let’s go,” he said once the men had disappeared.
Wheeling the horse around, Barnaby nudged the horse toward the blackest corner of the field. He knew Rose was watching him but refused to meet her gaze. It would bring him more temptation than he was in a position to resist right now. He was painfully aware of the way her every curve fitted against him as though made to be there. It was annoying really because she was the very last woman he should have any interest in. Determined not to succumb to temptation, Barnaby turned his thoughts to their onward journey.
A loud bang from a gun behind them suddenly shattered the silence. Rose squealed in alarm, her face twisted in horror. Whatever she had intended to say remained unspoken when the horse suddenly began to dance nervously and jerk its head around as it fought for freedom.
“Damn it,” Barnaby swore as he glanced back at the two riders now racing across the field toward them. “They have seen us.”
Drawing his gun, Barnaby squinted, took aim, and released a shot. He couldn’t tell if anyone had gone down but didn’t wait to find out. The horse had taken advantage of the loosened reins and began to increase his pace, commanding his attention. Barnaby made no attempt to slow him down and instead encouraged it to go faster.
“The trees,” Rose gasped when she found the courage to speak. She had buried her head in his shoulder when the horse had stared to run and had no intention of lifting it again until they stopped, but she had noticed a large patch of woods in the distance that would suit their purposes.
“We can’t go into the woods. The horse can’t run over the uneven forest floor. It is too dangerous. We need to put some distance between us not get slowed down,” Barnaby replied. He hated to do it but Rose was right, the woods were their only option.
“We have to,” she persisted.
Rose ducked when Barnaby led the horse into the trees. As soon as they were under the shelter of the low-lying branches, Barnaby jumped down. Using a tree as cover, he removed his gun, carefully took aim, and shot at one of the riders. It was a relief to watch the man go down, but that still left his accomplice.
