Hiding Rose

by Rebecca King

  “I already have,” Noah boasted proudly.

  “I am going to have to arrest you,” Barnaby said calmly but firmly.

  “You have to kill me first.”

  “We know Sayers is the Count, and Chadwick is throwing a lot of money into trying to find Mainton. They have money to burn,” Barnaby murmured, testing just how much Noah knew about their operation.

  “They are earning a lot of money. Their network goes far wider than you realise. I am not the only one feeding them information, so don’t give me that look,” Noah snapped, shifting slightly beneath Barnaby’s contemptuous look.

  “So there are more traitors in the War Office.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Anybody can be bought for the right price, Barnaby - even you. They will pay you handsomely if you hand the chit over to them; far more than they pay me but I don’t mind. They just want her to tell them what she knows that’s all. Then you can have her back.” Noah looked meaningfully at the bed. “It seems that she has a lot of uses.”

  Barnaby’s lip curled in a snarl of rage. “Rose isn’t like that. It is only just dawn, man. She was asleep. I was out on the street as you know fighting people who want me dead, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

  He watched Noah’s face harden even more, and wondered just what else the captain had gotten himself into in order to make some quick money. He began to wonder just what else Noah carried on that ship of his. Stolen goods, maybe? Sayers’ men? Armaments?

  “So, where have you ditched your vessel?” Barnaby asked. “For a sailor you certainly spend a lot of time on shore. I cannot help but wonder if you are lazy, or poor at what you do. You belong in Sayers’ world of cut-throats and thieves, on dry land. It is a good thing that you do prefer to be landlocked. I am sure you will fit in well in your new life behind bars.”

  Barnaby saw the knife fly across the room and threw himself sideways to avoid it. He looked at the blade now embedded in the dresser and pushed to his feet in time to receive Noah’s flying tackle. It slammed him onto his back in the middle of the room and left him gasping for breath. That slight delay while Barnaby tried to breathe gave Noah an advantage and he wasted no time in trying to throttle Barnaby.

  Barnaby looked up and saw the feral rage in Noah’s eyes as he wrestled with the clawed hands Noah tried to wrap around his neck. There was a maniacal glint in the seaman’s eyes that was deeply disturbing. It made Barnaby wonder, for the first time in his life, if his last day was upon him. With his injured arm he certainly didn’t have the strength to fight Noah’s wild determination. He needed some help to fight the man off, but there was none nearby. All of the available men were searching the streets for Chadwick, and Reg and Ben had just taken Rose out of the way.

  “Damn you,” Barnaby whispered through clenched teeth.

  Noah merely grinned unrepentantly.

  Fury raged deep within him at his friend’s duplicity. The punch he landed against Noah’s ribs didn’t even wind the man, who merely sucked in a breath and tightened his beefy hold, but Barnaby refused to give up. Even when the edges of Barnaby’s vision began to blur he didn’t surrender. He tried to lift his leg to reach the flick knife tucked inside his boot but Noah’s weight prevented him. Struggling for air, Barnaby felt the room start to fade and knew this was it; the final moments of his life.

  Suddenly, he thought of Rose.

  Rose.

  Barnaby was glad now that his decision to send her away had been the right one. He just regretted not having the strength to say goodbye to her. It had been clear from the hurt on her face when Reg had spoken to her that she was angry with her new lover. Barnaby now regretted that they had to part on less than amicable terms; especially after what they had shared last night.

  When he was certain that he was going to lose consciousness, the image of her suddenly swam to the forefront of his mind. Like a guiding angel it gave him the strength to fight harder. In that second, something inside him refuelled a surge of determination that redoubled his strength. His eyes narrowed and turned feral as he glared hatefully up at the man above him. Grabbing hold of Noah’s neck in an identical hold, Barnaby squeezed tightly. So tightly that Noah’s eyes bugged and his face quickly turned puce. Watching Noah’s struggle equal his own, Barnaby continued to clench his fingers until Noah began to gurgle. He watched a thin trail of slobber drip out of the corner of the man’s slack mouth as he fought for life as well. The desperation in Noah’s eyes when he too began to lose consciousness forced the man to loosen his own hold on Barnaby.

  When Noah lifted his hand to punch him, Barnaby jabbed two fingers hard into the man’s armpit. Noah immediately dropped his arm and was temporarily distracted enough to give Barnaby the opportunity he needed. With the hand clutching Noah’s wrist, Barnaby crossed his index finger over his middle finger and rammed it straight into Noah’s eye. Noah immediately released Barnaby’s neck so he could clutch his face; his loud screech of protest echoing hauntingly around the room.

  Once released, Barnaby vaulted to his feet. Noah was too busy cradling his eye and didn’t see the boot Barnaby slammed hard into the side of the man’s head. The urge to do it again was strong, but Barnaby held back. Noah had a lot of valuable information he could give to the Star Elite. It was important that he was kept alive. With that in mind, Barnaby eased back and allowed Noah to roll into a tight ball of misery, but followed him in case the man tried to run for the door.

  “You are a fool Stephenson,” Noah gasped, squinting at him. “You are a fool if you think that I won’t kill you.” With that, Noah bent over at the waist and charged across the room with all the determination of an enraged bull.

  Barnaby took several staggering steps backward until he was in line with the small table beside the bed and fumbled behind him for the heavy, ornate candle-stick. Before Noah tackled him, Barnaby lifted the candle-stick high and slammed it down onto the side of Noah’s head.

  Noah slumped silently to the ground.

  Stepping carefully around him, Barnaby tore strips off the bed sheets and secured the sailor before he patted him down in search of weapons. Once he was sure that Noah was no longer a threat, Barnaby stood over him and studied the man who had changed so much and all for money. He had once considered nobody more reliable in his world than his colleagues. Now, thanks to Noah, he was aware that Sayers had more than one traitor in the Star Elite. They just didn’t know who he was yet, but they were going to find out.

  “Who else can’t I trust?” Barnaby whispered.

  He almost wished he hadn’t hit Noah so hard so he could ask him, but needed a few minutes by himself to recover and think.

  Being double crossed in such a way made Barnaby now start to doubt the choices he had made in his life. While he wouldn’t change a minute of his time with the Star Elite up until now, he was aware that it would be foolish to reject a chance of happiness with the woman who now owned his heart. There could be no question that he would regret it for the rest of his life. While he could never completely walk away from his work, he could find the same kind of balance between work and home that his colleagues had found, couldn’t he? He would need Rose’s help to make the necessary changes of course, but was more than willing to try if it meant spending the rest of his life with a proper home, and wife, and children waiting for him when he returned.

  “Damn it, I let her go,” he murmured bleakly. Glaring down at the unconscious man at his feet, he shook his head in disgust. “I have wasted enough time on you.”

  Slamming out of the room, he paused long enough to speak to the manager of the hotel who sent several of the burliest footmen to keep guard over the prisoner while someone was sent to fetch the Sherriff.

  Scribbling a brief missive to Sir Hugo, Barnaby went in search of the colleagues he knew for definite he could trust.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rose stared out of the carriage window with her heart in tatters. She had known that Barnaby was meant for his job because he had told her.
After last night, though, she had stupidly expected him to see things in a different way. Oh, she hadn’t expected any declarations of affection or future promises, but she hadn’t expected outright rejection either. He hadn’t even taken just a few moments out of his time to talk to her face-to-face and inform her of his regret about last night.

  Had last night not meant anything to him at all?

  “Obviously not,” she whispered as she swiped at the tears on her face.

  The lush greenery of the landscape swept by the window unseen such was the misery that shrouded her. She was lost to know what to do now. She was at the mercy of the men sitting atop the large and very luxurious carriage and hated it.

  If only I had the will, she thought in defeat. I would leave them to go to London on their own. It would serve them right.

  Could she do it? Could she leave them and go on her way alone? She instinctively cringed at the thought but was no longer the same person she had been several days ago. Everything had changed in her life – even her. She was positive that if anybody looked too closely they would see the physical changes last night had wrought upon her. It was certainly emblazoned across her soul.

  “What I can’t do is spend my life being dragged up and down the country by the Star Elite,” she whispered aloud. She knew she was their albatross, and it was galling that they considered her so much of a burden.

  “I need to stop this,” she murmured.

  Barnaby had made no bones about the fact that it could be several weeks before she was free to go about her life again, but she could see no reason why speaking to someone in London had to take that long. She could even write down what she had seen and post it to this Sir Hugo person in the War Office so she need never go to London at all.

  “I can start to make decisions about my own life and get on with it.”

  The more she stared out of the window and thought about it the more attractive that possibility became, especially if it meant that she could sleep in a bed for more than one night, and eventually found somewhere she could call home.

  “I can’t go back to live with my parents. Not now. But then, I don’t need to,” she sighed. “My parents won’t care. Even if they do, I am going to be miles away. Besides, I am a woman of means. I don’t need their permission to live any more. I can do this. I can make decisions for myself now. It can’t be any worse than being at Chadwick’s mercy.”

  If I can face that and survive I can face anything she mused.

  The only seemingly insurmountable hurdle she knew she had no way around at the moment was that she had absolutely no money with which to purchase anything. Therefore, she had no way of buying a post chaise ticket anywhere. Nor could she purchase food, or another change of clothing, or any accommodation for that matter. The money she had in the bank in Bude might as well not exist given all the use it was to her right now. She had to find a way to get hold of it.

  “Think like Barnaby,” she murmured aloud as she tried to put herself in his shoes.

  He would purloin whatever he needed somehow, and arrange recompense as soon as he was able. Could she do that too? She hated the thought of what would happen to her if she got caught. If someone did see her and haul her in front of the magistrate she could hardly admit that she was helping herself to something that didn’t belong to her to avoid someone in a government organisation. But, if someone did see her and she had to face the ignomy of being sent to gaol, she could send word to Barnaby or the War Office. They would send someone to retrieve her, wouldn’t they?

  “I can only hope they wouldn’t send Barnaby,” she sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was face him again.

  “I can’t stay so I have to go,” she declared after several moments of thoughtful silence. “I must. But where am I to go?”

  She watched houses roll past the window and frowned when she realised they were slowing down. Leaning forward, she peered out of the window. They were in a town; a rather large town.

  “It will have a coaching office here,” she muttered as she studied the row of shops lining the main street. “Food. Drink. Accommodation. Everything a person could want.”

  Rose had no idea how much a ticket south would be but if she could get to Bude, she could go to the bank and get her hands on her money. She could decide where to go and what to do from there.

  “Bude it is then,” she mused, quickly blocking out the niggling doubts that urged her to stay with Barnaby’s colleagues.

  Before she could change her mind, Rose tapped on the roof of the carriage.

  “Are you alright?” Reg called down to her.

  Rose slid the window down.

  “No, I feel sick. Can we stop somewhere? I need to get out of this carriage for a while. My head is spinning.” She hated having to lie to them. They were only there to keep her safe, but she had to do this.

  Sitting back in the seat she waited patiently for the men to pull the carriage into the large yard of a coaching inn and alighted with a theatrical sigh of relief.

  “I am sorry to put you to so much trouble but I feel so queasy. I just need to take some air for a little while, and maybe visit the ladies’ retiring room and then I will be fine.” The look of concern on the men’s faces almost undid her, but she squared her shoulders and disappeared inside without a backward look.

  Once in the ladies retiring room, Rose pondered what to do next. She was empty handed and had nothing with which to even purchase a drink. Nor could she figure out a way to get her hands on some money. What could she do now? She hated to admit defeat when she had only managed to achieve only a few feet of freedom but had no idea what to do. When no inspiration was forthcoming, she knew she couldn’t do this by herself. She had no wherewithal to fall upon to even consider what her options were. Her life before Barnaby had truly been closeted and had left her with little experience to fall upon. There was no option but to go outside, climb back into the carriage, and have her life taken completely out of her hands – again.

  When she reached the busy tap room, Rose’s departure was delayed by an elderly lady holding several small, yapping dogs. She watched as the woman crooned soothingly to her spoilt pooches and then snapped brisk orders to a harried looking maid and the inn keeper as she attempted to bustle her amble girth, and the dogs, out of the tavern doorway. The ensuing melee was noisy, boisterous, and resulted in the woman pushing her way forcefully through the door, dragging her bag, dogs, and the inn keeper behind her.

  In the chaotic confusion, Rose watched something flutter to the ground and bent down to pick it up as the woman stalked regally across the yard to her waiting coach. Aware that the woman hadn’t noticed she had dropped the small square strip of paper, Rose held it aloft with the intention of calling her, but then looked down at what she was holding.

  “It’s a ticket,” she whispered aloud. “It’s a ticket south.”

  Her stomach flipped. She looked up at a flurry of movement beside her.

  “Please?” she asked of the inn keeper as he ran back into the tavern. “When does this coach depart?”

  “About now, but you had best be quick,” the inn keeper warned her.

  Rose raced out of the inn, hesitating only briefly to glance over at Reg and Ben, who were deep in conversation on the other side of the yard.

  “Inside,” the coachman ordered her when he had checked her ticket.

  Rose quickly clambered aboard and had no sooner shut the door than the carriage lumbered into motion. Shaking with trepidation at what lay before her, Rose watched the yard of the coaching inn disappear.

  “What the Hell do you mean you have lost her?” Barnaby bellowed, his face puce with rage. Panic suffused him as he glared hatefully at a sheepish looking Reg.

  “We asked the inn keeper where she was and searched the place but she had gone. There was nobody else around, we checked,” Reg reported.

  “She can’t have just bloody disappeared,” Barnaby snarled.

  “She isn’t with Chadwick. He is in the
pub by the harbour,” Ryan reported with a frown. “Josh, Seth, and the others are going to ambush him as soon as he leaves.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s carcass about Chadwick. Where is Rose? Where is she? I leave her with you for two minutes and you go and lose her,” Barnaby bellowed.

  “She said she felt ill and asked us to stop,” Reg repeated for the third time.

  “So she is ill and lost,” Barnaby spat. “Brilliant.”

  Stomping backward and forward in front of the fireplace in his room at the hotel, Barnaby glared at Seth when he appeared in the doorway.

  “Your horse is ready,” Seth announced.

  “Where are you going?” Ryan asked.

  “To bloody well find her, where else? She can’t have gone too far.”

  The men followed Barnaby out of the room.

  “Where are you lot going?” he demanded, slamming to a halt in the middle of the hallway.

  “With you,” Ryan replied. “We have men watching Chadwick. He can wait for an hour or two. You need as much help as you can get, boss, and we are it.”

  Barnaby suspected he was going to need them and raced out of the building. If they could keep up they could go with him. If not then they were going to get left behind.

  “Get me the inn keeper,” Barnaby ordered as he stalked into the tavern a little while later. Within seconds, a timid looking inn keeper appeared before him. Barnaby drew himself to his full height and glared sinisterly down at the terrified man.

  “Which coach left here about two or three hours ago, and have you seen a young woman about this high with light brown hair wearing a brilliant blue dress today?” He demanded querulously.

  “Yes, she was here earlier,” the inn keeper stammered. He nodded to Reg and Ben. “They were with her.”

  “Where did she go?” When the man hesitated, Barnaby fought the urge to shake him.

  “She got onto the 10.30 to Bonnington,” the man stammered.

  “What? She got onto the coach? Are you sure? The 10.30 to Bonnington, you say? Was anyone else with her?” Barnaby’s voice grew louder the more questions he asked until he was shouting by the time he fell silent.