Chapter Eight

‘This is mad, you know.’ Mr Hendricks spoke in the same soft voice he used on those times when he managed to remember that she employed him.

‘You have told me that on several occasions already.’

‘I did not think one more would make a difference,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘But if there was even the smallest chance, then I had to try. When I suggested we steal to survive, this was not at all what I was intending. I meant that we would take only what was necessary. A loaf from a farmer’s window sill, perhaps.’

‘Which would leave the poor family there with nothing to eat,’ she said. ‘Does it not diminish the hurt to all concerned if we steal from someone who lives a life of excess?’

‘Perhaps that is true, in theory. But you are not discussing some distant and romantic utopia. You are asking me to rob a coach on a modern highway. I believe, my lady, that you have confused me with some idealised combination of Robin Hood and Dick Turpin.’

‘Just as you have confused me with a character in a Drury Lane comedy,’ she snapped back, ‘and persuaded me to traipse halfway across England in your cast-off clothing.’ His tone annoyed her, for it was no longer mild subservience. There was a distinct air of derision. And it was just another example of the way those around her had no trouble leading her into jeopardy with their outrageous plans, then resisting when she offered an equally outrageous plan of her own.

‘If you mean to rob every farm between here and Scotland, we will never reach our destination. Rather than stealing one loaf at a time, we could take a single purse from someone who can afford a closed carriage and have more than enough gold to finish the trip. In the eyes of the Lord, the latter is far worse.’

‘It is to be my misfortune that you were reading the story of the widow’s mite,’ he said. ‘I should have taken that book from you when I had a chance.’

‘If you had, my opinion now would be the same,’ she snapped back. ‘I have no desire to spend a week sleeping in barns and munching on stolen bread and green apples.’ Although, were she honest, the prospect of being forced to sleep in the wilderness, huddled against Mr Hendricks for warmth, had a certain appeal to her.

‘I am sorry, my lady, if all that I can offer you is not to your liking.’ There was a surprising bitterness in the way he said her title, as though it were caught in his teeth.

‘And I am sorry if you do not like the position you have been engaged to perform.’ She gave him her cruellest smile and let the words be an equally bitter reminder for him, as well as herself, that her present condition was nothing more than a colossal inconvenience.

‘Begging your pardon, my lady.’ He offered a false bow and tugged his forelock. ‘I will not forget my place again.’

The soft blond hair falling in his eye gave her the sudden and inappropriate impulse to smooth it back with her fingers. She ignored it and said, ‘Your apology is accepted. Now, about the matter of the coach robbery…’

‘Which I cannot in any way condone.’

She huffed in disgust. ‘Your weak resolve had been duly noted. And I dismiss it. The occupants of the vehicle we will be stopping are unworthy of your sympathy. Char Deveral is a pampered, foolish girl of carefully cultivated prettiness, who would leave a full purse on the ground rather than soil her hands picking it out of the mud.’

* * *

Or a coin from a coach yard. The incident still stung, even now that her hands were clean. She had made Mr Hendricks ride the next miles hard and well off the road, until her anger had abated. But at least she was sure they had passed the carriage and could lie in wait for it.

And now, even if she did not get to Priscilla in time, she would have her revenge for that muddy coin and for a host of other small tricks and social slights delivered over the years by Char and her friends. She smiled at the prospect. ‘I know her type well. They are always talking behind their hands at those not of their set, laughing at their own empty jokes, and despite all the warnings of those who know better, running off with men who are little better than servants, heedless of what it might to their reputations, leaving the more rational members of their family to rescue them from their own foolishness, causing no end of misery…’

Now she had gone totally off her track and could tell by the look in his eye that he thought her even madder than before. He broke into her tirade. ‘It is not the character of your potential victims that concerns me, Lady Drusilla. Or their tendency to fraternise with men who are beneath them. It is the result of our likely capture.’

She waved away his objections. ‘If we are caught, then I shall tell everyone who I am and that you are my servant, forced into the actions by my misguided desire for adventure.’

He held his hand heavenwards as though to summon the angels to witness what he was forced to endure. ‘And I suppose, when they ignore you, and I am hanged for highway robbery, it will be a consolation to know that it was not really my fault.’

‘Nonsense,’ she insisted. ‘My father has bought justice to a halt for my sister more often than you can imagine. If this time the felonious prank perpetrated was the fault of Silly Rudney instead of his darling Priss, he will be annoyed with me, but will not hesitate. While the world has heard of no such actions on my part, a single mistake of mine can hardly compare to the sum total of the rest of my family.’

Mr Hendricks swore aloud, not caring that she heard the words, and said, in a more moderate tone, ‘The upper classes are all quite mad. For a time I had hoped that you were proving to be otherwise. But you are blessed with a stubbornness that is well outside the bounds of sanity and a single-mindedness that could wear reason down to a nub.’

So, she had lost the good opinion of the man who sat beside her. ‘At least I am consistent, Mr Hendricks.’

‘You are that, my lady.’

Then she tried something that had not occurred to her before and dipped her head slightly, doing her best at a shy smile, as her sister would have done when trying to charm a man. She looked up at him through her long dark lashes. ‘I am sorry to have been such a bother. You have done your best to keep me safe and I have much to be grateful for. If you can help me in this one last thing, I will see to it that you are properly rewarded for the inconvenience of it.’

He laughed. ‘So it has come to this, has it? You mean to use your wiles on me, now that all else has failed?’ There was a strange pause before his response, as he stared boldly back at her in challenge. ‘And how might you reward me, if I risk my neck for you?’ His voice was not mild at all, but hoarse, deep and strangely thick. She could feel the answering thickness in her blood as her pulse slowed.

She swallowed, wondering what she had meant to tell him. Some part of her mind was sure that her sister would have offered a single kiss as though it had some material value, but she doubted the currency of her inexperienced lips was of comparable worth. Nor could she inform him that, should they manage to find Priscilla, she could procure that kiss for him from her sister.

Then a thought occurred to her. She could tell him to take what he liked for a reward. Then he would kiss her. And though it would seem like a forfeit, only she would know that she had been rewarded twice.

But now that she needed it most, her nerve failed her. ‘My father will pay you double whatever you intended to receive from this escapade. What else could I possibly mean?’

He shook his head in amazement. ‘I cannot imagine. Double the pay it is, then. And enough money to replace what was stolen from me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then for you, I shall turn highwayman, my Lady Dru.’

His anger with her must have dissipated, for the way he’d shortened her name had none of the frustrated affection that she felt when someone called her Silly. This made her feel odd. She tingled, almost as though he had reached out and touched her cheek to show her that they were friends again, and she needn’t worry.

He stared down the road. The sun was near to dipping behind the horizon; with each moment, it became more difficult to make out details of their surroundings. But from just behind the last hill she could hear the sound of horses, and the jingling of harnesses growing louder as they drew near.

Mr Hendricks removed his spectacles and tucked them into the pocket of his coat.

‘Do you not need them to see what you are about to do?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘Sometimes it is better not to see. It will be easier to do something as foolish as we are doing tonight without a clear view of it.’ Then he reached behind him to the bag that was strapped to the back of his saddle and removed a pair of pistols and two black neckcloths. He tossed a cloth to her, and then carefully handed her one of the guns. ‘Pull the cravat up and over your face,’ he cautioned. ‘Stay well out of the way, up on this hill with the setting sun to your back. You will seem much more intimidating if they do not have a clear view of you. And keep the pistol pointed up and over the heads of the drivers.’

‘It is not loaded.’ She said, trying not to sound relieved, for he had not troubled with ball and powder for her gun as he had with his own.

‘But they do not need to know that and I do not mean you to shoot. Just hold it as if it is properly ready. They will have no idea, unless you do something that might cause them to fire at you and do not respond.’ Then he looked at her seriously. ‘And if they do, if there is any trouble at all, then you will turn and ride away, do you understand?’

‘But that will leave you here alone.’ At last, she saw the truth of the risk she had forced him to take. The empty gun trembled in her hand.

His face was dark, as threatening as one would expect from someone desperate enough to rob a coach. But it was with concern for her, not anger. ‘If there is gunplay, it is no place for a lady to be, much less a lady disguised that might be treated with as little care as one might treat another man. If there is a problem, you will leave me to my fate.’

‘I am your employer and I ordered you to this.’ If he was hurt, it would be her fault. The thought almost choked her with anxiety.

‘You have not answered me,’ he said firmly. ‘I brook no discussion of this, nor will I waste time listening to any suggestions you might give me. Swear that you will do as I say, or I will not proceed. And hurry, for there is not much time.’ Without his glasses, there was no mildness in him at all. And the way he was staring at her made her feel small, easily managed.

It made her wish that there would be cause for him to look at her like that again. Perhaps in a situation where she had not put his life in jeopardy. For if he did, she would respond to any command he might give. She stifled a sigh and said, ‘As you wish.’

‘Very good. The coach is almost here and we have no more time to argue.’ He pointed to a spot well up the hill from the road. ‘Wait for me there. The height will appear to give you a good shooting position and will make retaliation difficult. You will be perfectly safe, as long as you do what I say.’

He pulled his own dark scarf over his face, and she masked herself as well. There was nothing attractive about highway robbery. Or, at least, there should not have been. But the way he sat atop his horse, and the sight of him with nothing but those strange amber eyes visible above the scarf, was quite dashing.

It was incongruous with the look of quiet competence that she had come to expect when seeing Mr Hendricks. The man before her now was the very devil on horseback. His thighs were muscular, the dark coat stretched over broad shoulders and a shock of blond hair crept out from beneath the low brim of his hat. And, once again, her body tingled in the unexpected way it had when she had first sat upon the horse with him. He had been so strong, when he’d helped her easily in and out of the saddle. Now she wondered how those strong hands would feel if they lingered on her body.

They waited in silence, as the carriage approached. Suddenly, it was too late to lay a hand on his arm, or call out a warning to stay him. He was thundering down the road into the path of it, causing the driver to pull up and the horses to shy.

‘Stand and deliver!’ Mr Hendricks’s voice echoed off the surrounding hills, and his horse reared as he fired a single shot into the air. But he kept his seat as though there were nothing in it, waving the driver and groom to the ground with his pistol.

And she would do everything she could to help him, even if it meant doing nothing at all. She kept her horse still and the pistol steady, held high so that the coachmen below her could see it.

They got down from their seats and made no effort to defend the family they served. Having met the inhabitants of the carriage, Dru could guess why. There was little to recommend Char that would give one the desire to risk life and limb.

Mr Hendricks was down from his horse in a trice, waving the coachmen to the side of the road and directing them to lie upon their bellies and out of the way, gesturing up at her to show them it would go harsh with them should they try anything. When he was sure that they would do as directed, he strode up to the carriage and opened the door.

Charlotte gave a ladylike shriek from inside. ‘My jewels!’

Hendricks gave a slight bow and a tip of his hat, then said in a plummy voice, ‘I would not, for all the world, threaten your lovely person, nor steal the baubles from your beautiful throat.’ Under his mask, she was sure he was smiling. ‘I seek the money in your purse and mean to take only as much as I need.’ He held open the door, then held out his hand for her reticule.

And the foolish girl leaned so far forwards, trying to get a good look at the man in the road, that she tumbled out into his arms.

From Dru’s position, it was the most contrived thing she had ever seen in her life. Char’s shameless behaviour very nearly made her forget the two men she was supposed to be watching. But when she looked back at them, they showed no signs of rising and seemed more interested in a flask they were passing back and forth between them, than in regaining the pistols resting on the seat of the carriage.

Mr Hendricks caught Charlotte easily before she hit the ground. Then he said, in a voice deeper than usual, ‘You needn’t fear, my lady. Your person and your jewels are perfectly safe. Though indeed, now that I see you, they are hardly necessary to enhance your beauty.’

Dru’s eyes narrowed. For while she had no wish to see Mr Hendricks shoot Char, Priss’s friend was doing it much too brown. The girl reached to open the reticule, pretended to fumble, dropping her purse in the dust of the road. Then she began to sag.

Hendricks rescued the money and tightened his grip on the girl fainting in his arms. Dru could remember how nice those arms felt when they had been around her body. But he’d never had cause to hold her as tightly as this. And he never would, if the only way to accomplish it was to fake a swoon.

Charlotte gave a weak laugh. ‘I fear I am close to overcome.’ She put her hands upon his bicep, so she could feel the muscle there. ‘You are very strong.’ She tipped her head back in an obvious invitation. ‘And I am quite defenceless.’

‘Are you, now?’ She could tell, even from this distance, that Hendricks was responding favourably to the shameless play-acting. And it irked her to see the trick she’d tried on him played better by one who had no responsibilities to prevent her from feigning helplessness when it suited her.

In the carriage, Char’s chaperon gave a warning tutting noise, but did little more than fan herself and watch eagerly. In Dru’s opinion, the woman did far too little to put a stop to her charge’s behaviour, even when there was not a pistol drawn.

Hendricks had pulled the coin purse from inside the bag and was feeling the weight of it in his hand. ‘This will do nicely, I think. I will not take from your companion. If she has any money, she will need it more than you.’ He glanced over his shoulder, gauged the distance and tossed the purse expertly up to Dru, who loosed the strings and counted the substantial curl of notes inside.

‘If there is anything else you want sir, you are welcome to it. As long as you spare my life and my necklace.’

She’d said nothing of her innocence, Dru noted. And now Char was batting her eyelashes as though she had cinders in her eyes.

Mr Hendricks gave a little laugh and reached to undo the bottom of his mask. ‘Then you shall sacrifice a kiss, my dear, and I will go on my way.’ And then he put his lips upon hers. It was hard for Dru to see past the edge of the mask and the red haze forming in her own eyes. But it appeared that he had opened her mouth. His mouth was open as well. There was much movement and what looked like mutual chewing.

The coachmen were nudging each other and chuckling where they lay on the ground. The rate of the chaperon’s fan increased, as though she was about to overheat in the closed carriage.

Now Char was making little noises in the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like moans of pleasure. Her body trembled and her hands clutched urgently at Mr Hendricks’s coat, as though she wished to crawl inside it with him.

And Dru felt sick, wishing that she could call the last few moments back and beg bread from farm wives as he’d first suggested. Her petty desire to take revenge on Charlotte might have gained them the money needed to finish the trip, but it had earned Charlotte a conquest.

And Char had got her kiss. If she had only chosen the right words a few moments ago, she would be the one bent over Mr Hendricks’s arm. It would be her mouth he’d opened. And she would be the one shuddering in ecstasy and hanging from his lapels.

Instead, she had offered him money.

Dru stared down at the purse. Then she pocketed the bills, which were more than enough to get them to Scotland and back, and let the little bag drop again to the ground. She gave her horse a little kick that caused him to shift uneasily and stamp the thing into the mud at his feet.

When she looked back to the road again, Mr Hendricks was setting Char back upon her feet to more ineffectual noises from the companion. Dru could see the look of dazed happiness on the face of her sister’s friend.

She felt the strange, hot feeling again, in her cheeks and lower. Her throat felt flushed; the fabric of her shirt seemed to chafe at her breasts. And in the tight confining cases of leather there was a spot between her legs that seemed to pulse and burn and make her want to leap from the horse and rip the breeches from her body.

Now Mr Hendricks had secured his mask again and was helping Charlotte back into the coach. Then he ran to his horse, springing easily into the seat as though invigorated by the robbery. He tipped his hat again. ‘Thank you, my lady.’ And then, another tip of the hat for the chaperon. ‘Apologies, ma’am.’

The casual courtesy annoyed her almost as much as the kiss had. How many times had she experienced that polite, dismissive attention from an attractive man, only to have him turn back to Priss?

‘And now, I must be going.’ Mr Hendricks looked back to the coachmen. ‘See to your mistress, gentlemen. And if you are smart, you’ll take your time about it.’ Then he spurred his horse up the hill towards her, and they were off, into the open country, far away from the road.

They rode for some time without stopping; she ripped off her mask when he did and followed him without question. But her mind was seething and her body still in turmoil. If there was such a thing as a chaperon’s corner for highwaymen, she had been left there tonight, holding an empty gun instead of her knitting. As usual, the real excitement was occurring close enough to be seen. And, as usual, no one had wanted her participation.

Mr Hendricks pulled up suddenly in the shelter of a copse of trees. Then he reached into his pocket and retrieved his glasses, looking through them and polishing the lenses. Without her having to ask, he supplied, ‘I stayed not far from here, while growing up. There is no reason to ride blind. But it was pleasant to learn that I still know the roads well enough for pranks such as this.’ He adjusted the spectacles and gave her a dark look. ‘Not that I mean to pull any more of them.’ Then he held out his hand for the money and counted it.

‘And no more robberies should be necessary. This is enough that we might hire a carriage for the remainder of the journey. Once we reach Lancaster you may put on skirts again and travel properly, as a lady.’

As though that would matter to him, for she doubted he thought any more of her than he had of the unfortunate young lady fanning herself in Char’s carriage. ‘I do not have to put on skirts again, if it is more convenient to proceed as we have been.’

‘I should think you’d be happy for the chance to ride in comfort. We can resume a normal rate of travel, rather than tearing across country, higgledy-piggledy.’ He looked off in the direction of the northern horizon. ‘Although we will keep it up for some time yet. There is a short cut I know that will bring us out on the road far away from the carriage we have just visited and closer to the one you seek.’ He glanced back at her, taking in her unusual costume. ‘The night is clear and I do not expect pursuit. We shall stay as we are and sleep under the stars. But tomorrow, it would be better that you were a woman again and I take back my hat and coat.’

‘If I were a woman?’ This was even worse than being ignored. It seemed she had lost her gender altogether, with a simple change of clothes.

‘If you were dressed as one,’ he corrected. ‘Of course, I know you are a woman.’ He laughed in a funny, awkward way that did not match his earlier self-assurance.

‘Do you really?’ Suddenly it was very important that he say it aloud.

‘And my employer as well,’ he added quickly. And this was worse than neutering her. She might as well have been another species. But to choose now, of all times, to remind her of the distance between them was particularly cruel. ‘If I am so far above you,’ she snapped, ‘then I am surprised that you think yourself entitled to choose my attire.’

A difference in their stations had not mattered a bit when he had been kissing Char. And the fact that she employed him did not mean that she was without feeling. She had a good mind to show him…to prove to him…to make him see…

Something. It was as if there was a word on the tip of her tongue that she could not quite remember. But she was sure that, whatever she meant to say, it was a uniquely female thing that everyone had learned but she. And if she’d asked Char or Priss what it was, they’d have looked knowingly one to another and then laughed at her.

She was tired of sitting in the corner while others danced, and even more tired of watching others being kissed in the moonlight. And beyond everything else, she was tired of Mr John Hendricks looking through her and holding another woman in his arms.

He was looking at her, aghast, and she wondered if some portion of her thoughts could be read on her face. Then he said in a mild, servile voice, ‘I only meant that if any are searching for two daring highwaymen, they will not recognise them in us, should you choose to don a dress.’

It was so perfectly rational, and had so little to do with her femininity or his awareness of it, that she felt a complete fool. So she pulled herself together, gathered what little respect she had left, and answered just as reasonably, ‘You are probably right. It is time to put this foolishness aside and behave properly.’

But her heart said something far different. Before the night was over, she would teach the man beside her that she would not be overlooked.