Jane turned her head, opening her mouth to scream as he pulled himself up out of the debris. One arm hung uselessly at his side, but the other…the other was fine and he used it now to raise up his hand. He held a gun, a dark pistol that he aimed with one hand, pointing it back the way they had come.
For the first time Jane became aware of hoof beats. Then she saw him. Keegain. The pirate would shoot Keegain.
Jane struggled from the debris. Nothing else mattered anymore. She had failed and she would pay for that failure with Keegain’s life. She must rectify the mistake, now, quickly, before she lost the man she loved more than any other in the entire world. She leapt at the pirate.
34
The earl sighted them first. The carriage was ahead, careening wildly in the muddy slush. It fishtailed, all four wheels sliding sideways as the horses strained to keep the thing moving on the icy ground. That was the sole reason that he had been able to catch them.
Well, that and the fact that he had run his horse into a lather. Behind him, Lord Keegain heard the others. The men were shouting, urging their horses onward. He had outstripped them all in his mad race.
The poor beast under him would run itself to death from exhaustion if he did not soon stop. He hated using an animal in this way, but the quarry was close enough to touch and he could not slow. The driver of the coach was whipping his horses to greater and greater speed, but there were only two and their burden was considerably greater than a single mounted man.
The carriage rose for a moment on two wheels, the strain of that much weight on the axles was telling, one of the wheels no longer ran true. There was no telling what would happen if the carriage went over. His heart in his throat, Keegain shouted to the horse.
“Hah!” He leaned into his mount’s neck with his knuckles, urging it faster, begging for the animal to give everything it had. He sent a silent apology to the horse. It was cruel, but necessary. Jane’s life hung in the balance.
Maybe the horse understood his master’s urgency on some level. The beast seemed to rally and give a final burst of speed. Fitzwilliam and the stable hands fell behind as Keegain’s stallion churned up the mud and slush spraying wings of water around them in an icy cascade as he narrowed the gap between him and Jane.
The carriage again rose on two wheels, as the driver anticipated the turn. Icy sleet turned to snow even as the storm intensified. The wind swirled the flakes. It would have been wildly beautiful on any other night. Here, it made things that much more treacherous. Keegain’s horse slipped on hidden ice now, before his hooves dug in. The road was more dangerous by the minute.
And then it happened. The carriage rounded the perilous turn at the riverbank, where the spray made the road a solid sheet of ice.
The carriage balanced for a long moment on the one side, tipping further and further on that edge until eventually, it fell with a horrible crash and the screaming of men and horses.
“JANE!” The name tore from earl’s throat as his horse pulled strength from some hidden reserve and laid itself out for his master. The carriage smashed against the fence. The driver was thrown over the bank into the icy waters.
Keegain searched for Jane, seeing her body lying still in the wreckage, illuminated by a bright moon reflecting against the glittering ice and snow. His eyes were only for her. His heart pounded in his chest until her saw her move and shout his name.
“Keegain!”
The earl never saw the man or the gun until Jane moved. She leapt at the man, a dark shadow really, but surely a man.
Keegain heard the sharp report of a pistol. For a moment his heart stopped. When he heard the sound of the ball whiz past his own ear, he felt relief. At least the man was not shooting at Jane.
Jane clung to the villain’s arm and he pushed her aside. The man climbed out of the fallen carriage, favoring his right. He dragged himself through the ruined door and fell heavily to the ground. He was close now. The earl could see him clearly. The fiend was dressed as a pirate and Keegain remembered seeing him at the ball.
The pirate pulled a blade from his side, a serviceable weapon, no costume prop this. He turned to face the earl’s charging mount weapon raised and Keegain leaned back as far as he could, pulling the reins savagely to keep the horse from the weapon.
The exhausted horse, now commanded to stop and seeing a threat reared, his sharp hooves flashing. The pirate tried to duck, tried to run, but one flailing hoof connected behind his head and he fell into the icy mud, looking up to a half-ton of frightened stallion with hooves the size of dinner platters stamping the frozen ground around him.
“Stop! Mercy!” the pirate screamed and curled into a ball covering his head to protect it from flashing hooves.
Keegain turned the horse away and dismounted. The animal danced sideways, wrought up by the run, eyes rolling, showing the whites. Foam and sweat pouring from its heaving sides. It stood blowing air as if brightening a forge. Keegain ran to the wreckage, crawling over what should have been the underside of the carriage and through the open doorway where Jane had scrambled to hide when the pirate had flung her away.
Jane was huddled in one corner; in her bound hands, she held a pistol, aimed straight at his heart.
“Jane.” Keegain spoke quietly, almost reverently. “Jane.”
She stared at him as though not comprehending what she saw. “My lord?” The words choked on a sob. Jane threw the pistol from her and rose to meet him. She grabbed his proffered wrist and he brought her to her feet, pulling his prize from the wreckage just as Fitzwilliam and the men thundered to the scene, arriving as Keegain freed Jane from the ropes that held her wrists together.
Two of his men continued past the carriage, they wielded cudgels, the other two checked on the villains thrown from the wreckage.
“Good God, my dear!” Fitzwilliam stopped his horse beside Keegain’s. “Are you injured?”
Jane was incapable of speech. She seemed to be laughing and crying all at once. Keegain held her head in his hands as they stood within the open door in the side of the overturned carriage.
“Jane…” he said as quietly as if he were trying to calm a nervous horse. “Jane, look at me, look at me.” Her wide, frantic eyes were everywhere, and then they fixed upon his urgent hazel gaze.
“I would like that,” she said on a gasping sob, “to look upon you.” She colored very prettily in his hands.
His left hand stayed on her cheek but the right hand slid behind her and pulled her to his chest. She came, unresisting. He saw nothing but her, as he clasped her softness to him. She fit as no other. “Jane,” he whispered against her hair. “Oh, Jane.”
He had almost lost her. She turned her head up to his and he kissed her, a gentle kiss of love between them. She was so sweet in his arms, he never wanted to let go. She clung to him desperately, molding her body against his, and he was lost.
“I no longer have to worry about you, old boy,” Fitzwilliam said with a smile Keegain could hear without glancing at the man. “You can have a marriage and happiness both.”
At the word ‘marriage’ Keegain felt Jane pull away. For a moment he could not understand it, for she had been there in his arms, kissing him back as though she meant it, and felt the same. Now her eyes were troubled and full of pain.
“I am sorry,” she said softly, for his ears alone. “I have forgotten myself in the moment.”
With that she turned away looking for a way down from the broken carriage.
“Come, now, before that thing disintegrates beneath your feet!” Fitzwilliam called. He had given over his horse and Keegain’s to Griswold, who had caught up with them. Others had cut loose the terrified horses from the fallen carriage. The animals stood, heads down, sides heaving. One limped badly and the other was bloodied from the harness workings when the carriage had overturned. Between the stablemen and Fitzwilliam, Keegain and Jane were gently lowered to the ground.
Jane immediately sank into the mud.
“My lady.” One
of the stablemen said and draped what looked suspiciously like the cloak of a pirate’s costume on the ground in front of her. She smiled in gratitude and stepped on it, though it did nothing for the water, it did keep the mud from pulling at her ruined slippers.
“We need to get out of the storm,” Fitzwilliam said looking at the sky. Snowflakes danced around his face.
“Begin’ pardon,” Griswold interrupted. The master of horse stepped up and pulled his hat. He bowed to Jane as though she were royally born and continued. “My lord, that horse of yours shan’t be fit to ride for a fortnight after this, I fear that riding him back to the house will damage the poor thing, and the others aren’t fairing much better.”
“You, your men, and these valiant steeds have done me a great service this evening, Griswold. I thank you. How are the horses from the carriage?” The earl asked with concern.
“They’re blown, my lord, though not as bad as these. The scoundrels had a head start and I guess they saw no reason to push the team ‘afore they saw us barreling down upon them.”
“And the villains?” Fitzwilliam questioned the older man.
“Tied up and secured sir.” Griswold grinned, his leathery face folding into a great smile. “Both of ‘em over there, ‘course, now, they may not wake up for a while and when they do, they’ll have a great blooming headache.”
“Both?” Jane turned to the stable master for confirmation and then back to Keegain. “There were three of them, and a driver.”
Griswold shook his head and shrugged. “I’m sorry, but we only found the two. Didn’t see no third.”
“Griswold,” Keegain looked at the sky. “I think that this storm is going to bring more snow down upon us, and soon. We need to get the lady back to the house. Find me the least blown horses and walk the rest back at pace. It is cold and miserable out, but I’ll be sure that a few bottles of my best port end up in the stable for celebration.”
Griswold’s face lit up. “Aye sir! I will at that!”
Keegain raised his voice so that all could hear. “A bonus for every man here tonight and my heartfelt thanks.”
A thin but honest cheer rose from five throats.
“Why are you cheering, Fitz? You’ve wealth enough.”
“It is the principle of the thing, Keegain,” he said with wink to Jane.
Hoof beats in the distance caused the company to reach for their cudgels. “Easy men.” Keegain called out. “It is likely Reynold’s men arriving to take charge of your prisoners.”
Indeed, it was Reynold’s men, but Ted was not with them. Their horses were determined to be the freshest as they had come at a brisk pace without the break-neck speed of someone trying to save his love. They gave up two horses so that Keegain, Fitzwilliam and Jane would be able to make their way back. Keegain rode back to the manor Jane held firmly in his arms.
Upon their return, a young servant explained Reynolds absence. Lady Margret had identified a member of her staff as an imposter and the man had attempted to escape on foot through the kitchens, although he did not get far.
“No, my lord,” said young Jack the kitchen boy. “He was accosted by baked goods and a breadknife,” Jack confessed laughing aloud.
Keegain was confused. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked, and Jack explained.
The man came through just as Mrs. Muir was taking a batch of cinnamon rolls from the oven and somehow ran directly into the hot pan of sticky buns. While he was yowling with burns and sugar stuck to his skin, Mr. White, came forth with one of the bread knives and pinned the rogue against the stove.
“Gilly was terrified. Of course, Mr. Reynolds came in directly and took charge of the situation.” Jack concluded.
“And you Jack?” Keegain asked. “What were you doing?”
“My job, my lord. Assistin’ Mr. White.”
Keegain sized the boy up for a moment, realizing that he was much too old to be considered a kitchen boy any longer, and the fact that he stepped up to help was telling too.
“Thank you,” Keegain said to Jack, thoughtful of promoting the lad. He hoped that Reynolds had all under control and the guests were not traumatized. The earl still felt shaken.
When Jane was taken struggling for her life, his heart had near shattered. He loved the woman dearly. He did not know what he would have done had she perished in the crash, but Jane was safe. She was here beside him now and he intended to never again let her go.
35
It was a somber early morning breakfast. The partygoers had yet to wake. Breakfast would come later, no sooner than ten after a night such as they had. Even then many would be staggering half-blind and with aching heads until well past midday. By arrangement, Keegain met Margret and Reynolds at the table before the guests arrived. Lady Margret was silent, but her head was unbowed and her eyes met his straight on.
“Thank you for coming here first.” Keegain said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was a scandalous habit he had never broken and the staff, over the years, had given up on training him to wait to be served. Anyway he had given Mr. White the day off in lieu of last night’s activities. In any case, his staff indulged his foibles with the long-suffering grace of an overindulgent parent. He was their lord and they were loyal to him, even in his every faux-pas.
Reynolds and Margret, however were served coffee and tea and then at a wave from the earl, the servants vanished as unobtrusively as they had come. Reynolds rose to leave as well, but Margret put her hand on his arm, and Keegain shook his head.
“No. Stay, Reynolds. I think this concerns you too.”
“I would never dishonor your name, or your lady’s,” Reynolds said stiffly.
“Of course not,” Keegain said. Whatever was the man on about?
He turned to Margret. “Our marriage,” Keegain said to his fiancée, “would strengthen our coffers and make the resulting union one of the most powerful in the country. It would not, however, bring either of us any joy.”
“I am sorry,” Margret said with unaccustomed softness.
“Don’t be.” Margret looked down at the table for a moment as Keegain continued. “I have funds enough and if I am far down on the list of influential families, so be it. I choose contentment.”
Lady Margret’s eyes again strayed to Reynolds who stood so stiff and unyielding. Keegain wondered how he never saw it, the light in her eyes when she looked at his friend. As she looked back at him, her eyes hardened.
“You said some things last night.” Margret bit her lip and for a moment he wondered if she might cry. But Margret had always been made of sterner stuff. “And I discussed them with Mr. Reynolds…” She flushed with color. “At length as he was trying to get me to remember small details about… about the incident.” She swallowed. “I have to say, in my own defense, I have never treated another living soul the shameful way I treated Miss Bellevue. I do not know what came over me.” She hesitated. “I suppose I was angry.”
That Lord Keegain could well believe. He had known Lady Margret for years and had never seen such cruelty from her.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I never wanted her injured and certainly not….” Margret shook her head. Keegan could see the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes. “I went too far, I know that, I… I am sorry, indeed. My behavior was not that of a lady.”
“And I also. I did not act, nor speak as a gentleman. I apologize as well,” Keegain said.
“But what I did was unconscionable. Please, believe me, I wanted no harm to come to her, I only wanted her gone.” Margret broke off.
“Why?” Keegain asked. The question was without malice. He was more curious than anything. “Why, if you are generous to all and sundry should you choose Miss Bellevue to vent your cruelty upon?”
“Because.” Lady Margret said in a rush. “Because of the way she looked at you. And the way that you looked back at her. That she could have what I could not…I suppose I envied her.”
This was perhaps the last thing he had expected Margret t
o say. Keegain shook his head incredulous. “You expect me to believe you were jealous? Of Miss Bellevue?”
“Yes and No.” Margret winced and took a deep breath. “I envied love itself,” she said. “Love, I would never have.”
Keegain was confused. “You do not love me, surely. I have known you throughout my life, but there has never been such feeling between us.”
Margret sighed and the earl did not understand. She held up a hand to stay his further protests.
“I was to be your wife. I was commanded to be your wife. After a time, I came to realize that my fate was not such an onerous a thing, better than most, in fact. You are a good and decent man, but I never…”
Margret stared at her hands. “I never looked at you the way she did. I never felt that draw as she does. Nor, if you are honest, did you ever look at me, the way you do at her. I was not afraid of losing you. I never had you and knew then I never would. I think, I was afraid that I would live the rest of my life never knowing what it was to look at someone in that manner, only then…” Her eyes drifted to Reynolds and pulled away again. “Only then, I suddenly knew, and that made it so much worse,” she whispered.
Lord Keegain looked at Ted. The man was watching Lady Margret with an expression on his face that was the perfect illustration to underscore her meaning. Keegain now knew the look for what it was. It was the same expression he wore whenever he looked at Jane, as if he would move heaven and earth to see to her happiness.
Lord Keegain leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. When had that happened? While the man was making witty comments over dinner, or while he was running down culprits in the kitchen? Or even before that, considering Margret’s familiarity with Reynolds. If it was before, Keegain knew he should be angry, with her and with Ted, but all the anger had left him now. It did not matter.
When Margret looked at him again, she met his eyes, unflinching and unafraid. This was the Lady Margret he knew. “I had nothing to do with the kidnapping, I hope you believe that. I would never…” She paused a moment and cleared her throat delicately. “I know I waited an unconscionably long time to say anything, but if the truth of it be known…” She looked up again, but not to him. It was Reynold’s solemn nod she sought out.
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 21
