‘She must, however, have been both,’ the Duke reasoned.
He wondered how she could manage to look so small and frail and yet apparently have the stamina of an Amazon.
‘If she finds my character is difficult to read, I certainly think hers is extremely complex,’ he thought as he went up the stairs.
He undressed and climbed into bed. The goose feathers were soft and he admitted to himself though he had often slept in much worse conditions during the war, that had been as Freddie had pointed out, ten years ago. Now he was older and more fastidious.
Then he was planning how he could take Valora to safety in York, at the same time being half afraid that he might fail.
*
The Duke allowed Valora and himself an extra hour of sleep and it was nearly five o’clock when he willed himself to wake, hearing the cocks crowing as he did so.
Once again he climbed out of bed and dressed himself with some degree of decency before he knocked on her door.
She did not answer and he walked in to find, as he had done the previous morning, that she was asleep.
This time he went to the bed and spoke,
“Valora!”
She stirred and gave a little cry and then sat up.
“What is the matter – what is wrong?”
“Nothing,” the Duke replied.
He was aware in the light seeping in through the uncurtained window how lovely she looked.
Her expensive nightgown was very diaphanous and very revealing and, with her hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes a little hazy with sleep, she looked like the Princess in a Fairy tale.
“I was dreaming that we were – running away – and when you – woke me I thought I was – caught.”
The fear was back in her eyes and the Duke said,
“My Nanny always used to tell me that dreams go by the contrary. I feel sure that this one is no exception to the rule.”
Valora gave a deep sigh.
“I hope you are right – is it time to – get up?”
“It is five o’clock,” he told her softly.
“Then we should have left already,” she said, a note of worry in her voice.
“I am putting my trust in Bill,” the Duke replied. “As I am certain that he may appear at any moment, I suggest you get dressed.”
He went from the room as he spoke.
As he was finishing his own dressing, he was thinking of the whiteness of Valora’s skin and the contrast of the gold in her hair. He was also aware that her figure, which seemed so slim in the dress she had worn last night, had been softly curved beneath the revealing nightgown.
Then he thought to himself that if Valora was not interested in men, he was certainly at this moment not interested in women.
He had almost forgotten that, while she was escaping from Sir Mortimer, he was escaping from Imogen, or rather Lord Wentover, her father, who he was quite certain would be frantically trying to discover where he had gone.
Thinking of his Lordship made the Duke aware that the older man could be added to Valora’s category of the men she had found so unpleasant.
Not that the behaviour of Wentover, even with his penchant for pretty Cyprians on whom he spent money he did not possess, could be compared with the cruelty of Sir Mortimer.
But the Duke suspected that Valora’s father had also disillusioned her considerably in his treatment of her mother even before he was fool enough to run away with an actor’s wife, who was, as the servants would say, ‘no better than she ought to be.’
‘Valora has certainly got herself into a nice mess,’ the Duke thought.
Yet with her strength and his determination he would take her to York to her grandfather, whatever obstacles might be put in their way.
He went downstairs to find Valora was there before him, already eating eggs and bacon.
The Duke accepted a large plate of the same food and coffee, which was, if not of the first quality, certainly quite pleasant.
“I hopes everythin’ be to your liking, sir?” the publican’s wife said, as she placed a honeycomb on the table. “Bill says we were to look after you and as us thinks the world of ’im we’d do anythin’ for his friends.”
“I am glad to hear you say that,” Valora said. “I think he is a wonderful man.”
“So do we, miss,” she answered. “Last winter when things were so bad us thinks as ’ow we couldn’t carry on. Twas Bill that ’elped us when there were no one else.”
“Just the sort of thing he would do,” Valora agreed.
“I says a prayer every night that God’ll bless ’im for what he does for others. He never discusses it heself, but I’ve ’eard tales of people ’e’s ’elped all over the County and there be many in need of ’elp I can tell you.”
“I am sure there is,” Valora replied. “You must take care of Bill as you have taken care of us.”
“It’s been a pleasure, miss, and I wishes you both every ’appiness.”
She smiled at Valora and the Duke before she left the room.
“I told you Bill was a wonderful man,” Valora declared. “It’s a waste of his ability to be chased by the Military and have a price on his head when he should be teaching people.”
“Like you?” the Duke asked.
“I am well aware that I have a great deal more to learn.”
“When you have learnt it all, what then?”
Valora made a little gesture with the cup she held in her hand.
“One can never learn it all in one lifetime. I think knowledge is like looking up at the sky and trying to count the stars. There are too many, but every one of them is beautiful.”
The Duke was about to reply, when the door opened and the highwayman came into the room.
Valora gave a little cry of delight.
“We were wondering what had happened to you.”
“Sit down and tell us about it,” the Duke suggested.
He pulled out a chair and, as he did so, the publican’s wife came into the room with another large plate of bacon and eggs. She put it in front of him and set a pot of fresh coffee down on the table.
“Now eat up,” she said in a tone of a mother to a small boy. “Me ’usband’s givin’ Bessie some of your special oats, so don’t worry your head about ’er.”
“I won’t!” the highwayman replied.
“I thought last night that was something I should have bought for our horses,” the Duke said.
“You can have some of mine,” the highwayman replied.
“You have done enough for us already,” the Duke answered, “and I will remember the oats tonight.”
“Tell us what you found out,” Valora interposed, as if she could not wait any longer.
The highwayman ate a large mouthful of the eggs before he replied,
“No one arrived at The Hall last night, but Walter slept at Slodgbury, which is about three miles South.”
He paused to take another mouthful before he went on,
“I thought he would go there. It’s the only decent inn in the neighbourhood and Mr. Walter likes his comfort.”
The highwayman spoke scathingly.
“He is not far away,” Valora said in an agitated tone. “We must leave at once.”
“I have an idea,” the highwayman remarked, “that he is thinking that you would keep to the main road and may be behind him.”
“Who is with him?” the Duke asked.
“Two men – Giles, I imagine, and one of the outriders.”
“They have all been trained to shoot well,” Valora said.
She glanced at the Duke as she spoke and he knew she was thinking they might easily kill or maim him.
“If you have finished,” he said, “I think we should be on our way.”
“Wait a minute,” the highwayman said. “I have worked out where it would be best for you to stay tonight.”
“You are coming with us?” Valora asked.
He shook his head.
“No, I am going to keep an eye on Walter.”
Valora gave a little cry.
“Be careful, he knows who you are and would not hesitate to denounce you.”
“I am well aware of that, but I owe him something I hope one day to repay.”
“What is that?” Valora asked curiously.
“I suspect – in fact, I am certain, that it was Walter who informed Lord Mount that I was teaching the children on his estate and that I had also been asked to give the grown-ups lessons.”
“How do you know it was Walter?” Valora enquired.
“I think it was one of the men from our estate who went to work on yours, Miss Valora, who informed on me. It was a chap I never trusted and I am sure that it was he who started the trouble that ruined my life.”
Valora reached out her hand impulsively and put it over his.
“One day perhaps we will be able to make it up to you.”
“I would just like to get even with Walter,” the highwayman replied.
The Duke had been standing while Valora was talking to the highwayman and now she sensed his impatience and jumped to her feet.
“I will not be two minutes while I collect my things,” she said.
When she had left the room, the Duke turned to the highwayman,
“It is difficult to express my gratitude at all adequately, but I would like you to accept this.”
He put some notes, as he spoke, down on the table beside the highwayman’s breakfast plate. Then, as he stiffened and the Duke guessed that he was going to refuse to take it, he said,
“It’s not for you, but for your horse, which I imagine has been working overtime. And, if there is anything over, give it to the people you help when they are in need.”
The highwayman, who had just been about to thrust the money back at the Duke, hesitated,
“Who has been talking?”
“Just someone who is grateful to you – as we are.”
The highwayman picked up the notes.
“Very well,” he said. “ I will take them because I may have to pay informers to bring me news of Walter and all that matters at the moment is that you should take Miss Valora safely to her grandfather.”
“That is what I intend to do.”
The note of determination in the Duke’s voice was unmistakable.
The highwayman looked at him speculatively,
“You may think it an impertinence, but I am just wondering how you became mixed up in this mess. Make no mistake, it may be a bloody one before we are finished.”
“It is something I am quite prepared to tell you, and in detail, when we are victorious,” the Duke replied with a smile.
The highwayman laughed.
“I like you,” he said, “and though at first I was a bit suspicious as to why you were with Miss Valora, I trust you. Yet seeing how lovely she is, I am not quite certain why!”
The Duke was aware it was one of the most genuine compliments he had ever received.
“Thank you,” he replied and left the room to pay the publican for their lodgings.
Chapter Four
After a night very much like the one they had spent at The Magpie, they had started off early in the morning, with the horses frisky from the oats they had eaten the night before.
The Duke, however, was aware that Valora was looking tired and he was determined to make it as easy a day for her as possible.
They had both been somewhat exhausted the previous evening when they reached the small village where the highwayman had directed them to an inn where they would be safe.
As they finally sat down to a somewhat indifferent meal, the Duke was aware that Valora was nodding over her food. There was, therefore, none of the intelligent conversation that she had looked forward to and he had found himself enjoying.
Instead, as soon as the meal was over, she stumbled upstairs and by the time the Duke had seen to the horses he was sure that she was deep in her dreams.
Now, despite a little shadow under her eyes, she looked like spring itself and her voice had the lilt in it that he had begun to listen for.
The Duke had half hoped the highwayman would turn up to tell them what was happening at Heverington and if Walter was on their tracks.
But there was no sign of him and he had merely told the innkeeper the same tale he had used the night before and swore him to secrecy in case anyone should enquire if they had stayed at his inn.
The innkeeper did not seem very interested and the Duke reflected that perhaps he thought the story was just to cover up a very different sort of liaison.
His wife, however, was more obliging and, when the Duke suggested that they should take something with them that they could eat for their luncheon, she packed them sandwiches of tongue, pressed between bread warm from the oven and added a small bag of raspberries, which had just begun to turn red in the garden.
“Why did you ask for sandwiches?” Valora asked as they rode off. “I thought you enjoyed your mug of cider, even though it is not the expensive claret I suspect you are used to.”
“Today we shall be near to a town,” the Duke replied, “and I thought it wise to keep well out of sight.”
“Of course!” Valora exclaimed.
She gave a little sigh.
“Every day I realise I could never have managed this journey without you. How could I have been so lucky as to find you just when I was so desperate?”
“Perhaps it was Fate.”
“Do you really think our lives are mapped out for us and we have no choice in the matter?”
The Duke thought for a moment before he replied,
“I believe Fate is what most people call ‘good luck’, and often one needs courage to gamble on it being the right way forward, just as I thought it right to knock on your door when I heard you crying and right for you to trust me to help you escape.”
Valora gave him a smile that was as dazzling as the sunshine.
“That is just the sort of reasonable argument I like to hear,” she replied, “and it exonerates me from thinking that I am imposing on you and that you would much rather be riding alone on your journey without the encumbrance of a strange woman.”
“Now you are definitely seeking compliments,” the Duke answered. “May I point out that it is a very feminine characteristic!”
She made a little grimace at him, and then they were riding too swiftly to be able to talk.
*
It was not quite noon when the Duke pulled Samson to a standstill in a beech wood.
He had glimpsed the spires and towers of the market town he wished to avoid on the horizon and he thought that the sooner they were past it the better. It would take time, so it would be best to eat now.
“I am certainly willing to do so,” Valora said, when he explained his reasons for stopping.
He helped her out of the saddle and then knotted the reins of both horses on their necks, so they could graze any grass there was under the trees.
Then he brought the parcel of sandwiches from his saddlebag and opened it out to see that the innkeeper’s wife had included some slices of cheese wrapped in lettuce leaves.
“It’s really quite a feast,” Valora commented, “but the raspberries are rather crushed.”
“I daresay they will taste all right,” the Duke replied.
He leant back against the trunk of a beech tree and took off his hat.
At the same time, because the Highwayman’s abrupt appearance had taught him to be always alert, he pulled his pistol from his pocket and laid it on his knee.
“Don’t think of highwaymen lurking in this lovely wood,” Valora admonished him. “I want to believe it is full of fairies, gnomes and elves digging over the roots of the trees.”
The Duke smiled and he thought, although he did not say so, that she looked like one of the fairy people herself.
She had pulled off her hat, so that the sun coming through the leaves of the beech trees turned her hair to gold and her eyes se
emed to have captured the rays of the sun.
She was gazing at the Duke, and after a moment he said,
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking how shocked Mama’s friends would be if they knew that I was travelling alone with you and that we were unchaperoned at night.”
“Does it worry you?”
“No, of course not. You are not the sort of man I would be frightened of.”
“I have a feeling that is somewhat of an insult,” the Duke smiled.
Valora laughed.
“Now you are being ridiculous. You do not have that horrid smarmy look in your eyes and you don’t try to touch me with hot flabby hands, as that horrible Sir Mortimer did and the other men whom Stepmama invited to our house in London.”
“What did you do to avoid them?” the Duke asked.
“I kept out of their way as much as possible,” Valora answered. “When one man tried to kiss me, I stamped very hard on his foot. He swore, but he never tried it again.”
“I can see you are very proficient in taking care of yourself,” the Duke said mockingly.
“I wish that was true! You may think it a strange thing to say, but I think it was because I would have nothing to do with Sir Mortimer that he decided to marry me.”
The Duke knew this was more than likely and it was astute of Valora to realise it. Then because he knew the idea of Sir Mortimer frightened her, he said lightly,
“We were talking about me and, as that is a subject I am interested in, I suggest we return to it.”
“Unlike most men I have met, you never seem to want to talk about yourself,” Valora replied. “You know everything about me, but I know nothing about you – except that you are very kind.”
The Duke did not reply and after a moment she asked,
“What do you do when you are not riding to York?”
“As I believe you rather fancy yourself as being perceptive, I suggest you guess, Valora.”
She looked at him in the way she had looked at him before when she was analysing his character.
“You are rather puzzling,” she remarked after a moment.
“Why?”
“Because of the way you walk and give orders I should have thought that you were someone of importance and, of course, that means rich, but – ”
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