Duels & Deception

by Cindy Anstey

  Robert grabbed a breath and stiffened in the ready. But Lydia did not drop like a stone; she lowered herself hand over hand, stepping down the twisting and turning rope. Robert refocused on her feet—knots! The length of the rope was covered in knots; Lydia had fashioned herself a ladder of sorts. While the process was excruciatingly slow, it was not the harrowing fall that Robert had envisioned … until she came to the end of her rope.

  “Um. Robert?” she called down softly. “Did I. Count wrong? Is that. The end?” The cadence of her words was irregular, as if she was trying to talk while panting.

  “That’s it, I’m afraid,” Robert whispered, fairly certain she could hear him.

  “Much farther? Can’t see.”

  “Not much farther. I’ll catch you, not to fear.”

  “Just let go? Like that? Rather daunting.”

  “I can imagine it would be … but your choices are limited.”

  “Could climb up.”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “Ill-considered.”

  “Very.”

  “So one choice. Let go.”

  “Afraid so.”

  There was a moment of silence before Lydia spoke again. “Catch me?”

  “I will not let you fall.… Well, no, that’s not true—you are going to fall. What I mean is, I will not let that fall cause you an injury.”

  “I’ll land on you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Above and beyond the duties of a lawyer’s clerk.”

  “Perhaps it is stretching the definition a little. But it certainly is not above the expectations of a gentleman.”

  “Gentleman first…”

  “And a clerk second.”

  “Quite like that.”

  “You are dawdling.”

  “You noticed.”

  “Indeed. And, not that I wish to hurry you, but your jailers will, at some point, come to check on you, and finding you dangling from a hay door could be rather awkward.”

  “Very true.” Lydia sighed deeply enough for Robert to hear her. “On three, then.”

  “Excellent, idea.”

  “One … two … three.”

  Lydia arrived in his arms almost before the count was complete. She was not heavy, but the momentum of her descent was such that Robert dropped to the ground to prevent a severe jarring. They landed in a heap all but nose to nose, with Robert underneath. Neither moved for several minutes.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Robert chuckled softly. “More to the point, are you?” They were both breathing heavily from anxiety and exertion—yes, that was all. He did not notice the press of her soft body against his. He was not aware that her lips were mere inches … so close and—

  “I’m in fine fettle, thanks to you.”

  Her breath puffed gently across his face, and Robert pulled his gaze from Lydia’s tantalizing lips to her concerned eyes. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  Using his shoulders, Lydia pushed up and, unfortunately, off him, sliding to his side. There, she made no attempt to rise. “I’m heartily glad to be on this side of the wall. It was not the most enjoyable of experiences.”

  “It? The jump, the climb, the cell…?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  Robert nodded, finding his feet. “Shall we go?” He offered Lydia a hand and pulled her into a standing position. Not quite steady, she leaned on Robert until she regained her balance. They might have stood staring at each other for some moments had it not been for a rustle in the woods that startled them from their stupor.

  It was only the wind whistling through the trees, but it served as a reminder. Now was not the time to dillydally. There were villains aplenty on the other side of the barn: villains who would not appreciate their attempt to vacate the premises.

  “Follow me,” Robert whispered as he fought his way through the shrubbery to the awaiting mare.

  Chapter 9

  In which an enlightened friendship has its beginnings

  The road was barely discernible when Robert finally led Lydia—and the horse, which she had named Fanny—out of the ditch. They had slunk away from the Beyer farm through the bushes, making their way via the trench running alongside what should rightly have been called a lane. Still uncertain of their security on the main road, they chose to endure the mucky ditch, walking for several miles in tense silence. As the distance from the farm increased, their fears of discovery lessened, and yet they found no sanctuary. The few cottages and farms they encountered were shuttered and dark against the night. No refuge to be found—only miles of empty road to Bath.

  The moon was not full; in fact, it was barely over half. Still, it provided enough light to allow a faster pace, certainly better than a ditch that was rocky and slippery with moss. At first, Lydia rode Fanny alone—sitting astride with her skirts hitched to her knees in a very unladylike display.

  Robert said that he preferred to jog alongside. Lydia knew him to be cutting shams—that he was concerned about her modesty. Chivalry and good manners were all well and good in a ballroom. However, being on a lonely road while rushing away from villainous villains was neither the time nor the place for excessive decorum. When it became apparent that maintaining propriety was slowing them down and increasing their danger, Robert relented.

  Had circumstances been different, the process of getting Robert seated safely and comfortably behind her would have caused considerable mirth. It was awkward enough mounting from a stump, but near impossible to stay on Fanny’s back without holding on to her person. He tried and proceeded to slide off—twice.

  “Hold on, Robert. Put your hands on my waist.”

  “Your waist? But … but…”

  Lydia reached behind her, grabbed his hands, and pulled them around her. “Propriety will have to stand aside for the moment. Just don’t think on it.”

  Robert remained silent for a moment. “That’s easier said than done.” His voice was strangely husky.

  Urging the horse forward, Lydia smiled. She was rather intrigued by the feel of his body pressed so tightly against her; the sensation was quite agreeable—strangely comforting and exciting at the same time. With the extra weight, they couldn’t push Fanny into a canter, even with her rest at the barn, but the horse could manage a trot easily enough. And so, at last, they started to make headway.

  Just as Lydia was approaching a state of decreased apprehension, she detected a sound. A sound that she had been expecting—but did not want to hear. Pounding hooves. Riders—moving fast.

  In an instant, Lydia slipped down Fanny’s side while Robert slid off the back. He pulled the horse across the road and into the shrubbery while Lydia leaped into the ditch. She found a tall, bushy weed and hunkered behind it, ignoring the smell of rotting vegetation—and other less pleasant odors. Frozen in fear, Lydia waited. It was a long wait, and then all too soon, the riders were upon them.

  Three men on horseback.

  Lydia recognized the thug called Les immediately, but they thundered past with such speed that she had no time to discern who was with him. The other two figures were a blur, and soon the trio was lost to the dark, and the pounding of iron on gravel faded away. Frowning, Lydia met Robert on the crest of the road. They stared into the night after the riders.

  “That was—” Lydia was about to say “odd,” but she didn’t want to appear ungrateful for going unnoticed.

  “Odd,” Robert finished for her.

  “Yes, exactly.” Lydia nodded and then shook her head. “They were not searching for me. Not at all. How extraordinary … to go to such lengths to abduct me, then not…”

  “Perhaps they searched around the farm. Then fled, believing that you would bring the law down on them.”

  “Yes, I suppose. That makes sense,” she agreed absentmindedly as they mounted Fanny again. “But it is rather lackadaisical.” This time the closeness of their persons felt natural, and Lydia leaned against him; he did not protest. In fact, he tightened his hold for severa
l glorious moments, and Lydia was entirely distracted. However, sense prevailed. Robert loosened his hold, and Lydia heeled the horse into a quick walk.

  “When I think on it, Robert, this whole affair is rather peculiar. I know nothing of kidnapping or kidnappers, but one would assume that once the abductee is secured, one would check on said person every so often. And yet there was no checking—I ran around that barn at my leisure.… Well, not really, but you understand what I mean.”

  “Yes, indeed. If I had a habit of making off with young ladies—not that I would—but if I were a black-hearted villain relying on ransoms, I would not leave a length of rope with a prisoner.”

  “Rather inept.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I don’t think we are dealing with experienced kidnappers.” Lydia wasn’t certain if this realization made her feel better or worse.

  “Then with whom are we dealing?”

  “I have no idea. Persons in dire need of funds, I suppose.”

  “That could include the entire population of England,” Robert said unhelpfully.

  “Except the upper ten thousand.”

  “Even some of those are hard pressed for blunt.”

  “True enough. But perhaps we can leave the royal family off the list.”

  “A safe bet … though I have heard that the Pavilion in Brighton is proving to be a heavy burden.”

  “So you think the Prince Regent arranged to have me kidnapped to pay for his folly?”

  Robert laughed, his breath fluttering the loose hairs at the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “No. I think it safe to say the Prince Regent is not involved.” Then his tone became serious. “I will find out, though, I promise you that. I’m not quite sure how, but I will, even if I have to send to London for a Bow Street Runner.”

  Noticing the pronoun, Lydia corrected him. “Perhaps we can begin with Les.”

  “Les?”

  “Yes, the thug from the coach, the one who tossed you onto the road.”

  “I didn’t know he had acquired a name—one you gave him? It’s not very villain-like, you know. Brutus or Attila might be better.”

  Lydia laughed halfheartedly. “Morley called him Les when we arrived at the farm.”

  “Ah, I see. Les and Morley. Do they have surnames?”

  “I would assume so.”

  Robert waited, sighed, and then gestured ahead. “I thought I recognized one, the fellow in black with the stubby nose. He carried himself stiffly. Something about him seemed familiar. Was he your driver?”

  “My coachman? Oh, you mean the one I hired. No, it wasn’t Mr. Burgstaller. I wish I knew what had happened to the poor man. I hope he is all right.”

  “I would say that he is. Les did not slit my throat when he had the opportunity. He tossed me onto the road. Most thugs would kill you as soon as look at you—”

  “Met many outlaw types, have you, Robert?”

  “Pardon? Oh, I do work at a law firm, you know.”

  “Yes,” Lydia smiled. “You deal in estates and wills. Not criminal law.”

  “I see you know the difference.”

  Lydia laughed, twisting her shoulder back to nudge him in an overly familiar manner, and then realized what she had done. “Oh, I apologize most profusely,” she said in horror. “I do beg your pardon. I don’t know what I was thinking.… I … Miss Melvina’s Finishing School for Young Ladies did not cover appropriate behavior while escaping from an abduction.”

  “I am not surprised.”

  “Still, I am almost certain she would frown upon my behavior this evening. I have called you by your given name twice—”

  “Five times, but who is counting?”

  “Right. Five times, and now, I have treated you with great familiarity.”

  “With the familiarity of a friend.”

  Lydia cocked her head. “Friend?”

  “Yes. After all we have been through, I think we can readily agree that our relationship has undergone a change.”

  “I do feel as if I have known you a great deal longer than a couple of weeks.”

  “I would agree. So perhaps we might continue as good friends and not worry about the rules of propriety.”

  “I would like that … Robert. Yes, I would like that very much. Though, we can only be this relaxed with each other when no one else is around. My mother would faint dead away to hear me talking in this manner.”

  “I think Mr. Lynch might object as well. So we shall make a pact—friends at all times, but not obvious in the presence of others.”

  “Oh, I do like that.” Lydia nodded, wishing she could drop into a polite curtsy to do this properly. “Welcome to Lydia Whitfield’s social circle, Robert. I will warn you, however, that you are the only gentleman in the ranks until my marriage.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate the inclusion—Lydia, are you all right?”

  Lydia suddenly felt faint, and her ability to sit astride a horse became a bit of a challenge. Breathing deeply, she waited for the world to stop tilting, and it did, eventually. Though her feet were on the ground now, and Fanny was at her back. Robert was still atop the horse, awkwardly leaning down to support her arm. His grip on her elbow was tighter than necessary, but then again, the road did seem to be undulating.

  “Are you all right?” Robert asked again, sounding quite concerned.

  “Yes, of course,” Lydia assured him, though it was not entirely true. Her world had just toppled over. The future, her expectations, plans, hopes, dreams … all had dissolved into dust. “I was somewhat overcome by the enormity of what has occurred.” She made her voice sound strong and assured, despite feeling anything but.

  “I wouldn’t think acquiring a male friend would be life-changing.” He released his grip and pushed himself off the back of the horse. He moved to be in front of Lydia, arms out, hands hovering near her elbows.

  Lydia laughed, although even in her ears it sounded hollow. “No, I was not referring to your friendship. I realized the consequence of this … incident—my abduction. I am very glad the invitations for my birthday ball have not yet gone out. That would be most embarrassing.”

  “Embarrassing? I’m confused.”

  “My invitations would be unanswered at best, scathing comments at worst. To be in my company … no one will associate with me now. To do so would be to condone what I have done.”

  Robert straightened and dropped his arms back to his sides. “But you have not done anything.”

  “I have spent the night away without family or a chaperone. A disaster to all polite society.”

  “It was none of your doing—you were dragged away.”

  “Immaterial to anyone other than my family. No, I am completely beyond the pale now. A pariah. Any invitation I extend will be ignored or rebuffed for years to come. I can only hope that Ivy will not be painted with the same brush. Perhaps if I go abroad … but I do not want to leave Roseberry. Another house, then. Yes, that might serve. I can buy another manor for the family, well away from my taint.”

  “I think you are overstating it.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Lydia sighed deeply and looked down the road in the direction of Bath. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Beyond the pale,” she repeated.

  “I will not say anything about the abduction. It is between us. No one need know—”

  “Cora was screaming when the coach pulled away. She will have turned to Mr. Lynch, who will have sent for a constable. And then dearest Mama will have arrived to create a terrible scene. Scandalous gossip will spread like wildfire—growing larger with each telling. Like Pandora’s box, the evil will not be contained.” Lydia gulped, stared at the starlit sky for a moment, and then continued. “So, you see, no birthday ball and no marriage to Barley … Lord Aldershot.” It was strange that her last pronouncement did not upset her as much as the first.

  “You can speak to Lord Aldershot, assure him that nothing happened.”

  “Nothing happened?”
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br />   “Nothing that would prevent your marriage.”

  “Appearances mean a great deal to Barley. And as appalling speculation will follow me around for the rest of my days, he will wash his hands of me no matter what did or didn’t happen—of that I am certain.”

  “He will hardly put his happiness aside to bow to the expectations of society.”

  “He might not if we held each other in deep affection, but such is not the case. While I am fond of Barley—”

  “Fond?”

  “No, you are right. Fond is too strong. I was resigned to marrying Barley—Robert, stop frowning. It is not such a hum, the boot is quite on the other leg.” Spying a large boulder off to the side of the road, Lydia pointed—gestured; ladies don’t point. “Do you mind if we rest for a bit?” she asked, plunking down on the rock before he could reply. Fortunately, it had a large surface, and there was room for them both. Fanny did not complain, nibbling instead at the edging grass.

  “I have never been a romantic sort, Robert. Always thought it a luxury I could ill afford.”

  “I beg to differ—your affection for family and friends is very evident.”

  “I refer not to my capacity to love. That, I believe, is intact. However, unlike most young ladies of our society, I have not wasted hours imagining an ideal husband. There was no reason; my father had an agreement with Lord Aldershot, and I have not met anyone who might sway me from his course.”

  “Not Mr. Chilton?” There was no hiding the amusement in Robert’s voice.

  “Exactly. There are Mr. Chiltons aplenty in this world, but no … who would be the epitome of manly virtue—Sir Lancelot or Adonis? No, Lancelot was not honorable, and Adonis was beautiful to look at but not husband material.”

  “Are you saying there are no gentlemen of husband material in your vicinity?”

  “Exactly. So you see the problem.”

  “Indeed, you need to get out more. Too sheltered by half.”

  Lydia laughed. The world was falling down around her, and yet she laughed. Or at least she did for a moment, and then she lapsed into silence … with an occasional gulp. She refused to allow the tears to fall. If she did, they might not stop for a very long time.