Kitty shifted in her corner of the carriage. She was cold, tired and her headache was severe. The nausea had faded but she knew she was very weak. She spotted a light-coloured object on the floor of the carriage. After staring at it for a while, she picked it up. It was her new bonnet, squashed and stained with blood. She held on to it. Her eyes smarted with unshed tears. It was just another symbol of how she had ruined her day and with it, her aunt’s peace of mind.
She closed her eyes again, struggling to think of some way of escaping. Perhaps there would be a chance when they stopped at an inn to change the horses. Meanwhile, if she pretended to be asleep, perhaps Etienne would leave her alone. Kitty could still feel the pressure of his fingers on her chin. He was in a dangerous mood.
At last the horses slowed and they came to a halt. Kitty opened her eyes slightly, hoping to see lights and people around. She was dismayed to find that they were still in darkness. She heard the driver climb down. The door opened and a bulky shape appeared, holding up a lantern. Kitty clutched at her throat as she recognized the red-haired Irishman.
He cast a glance at her but addressed himself to Etienne. ‘This is the best place for the job.’
Etienne nodded. ‘Get me some rope,’ he ordered. While this was being done, he picked up the bundle that had served Kitty as a cushion. She realized it was his greatcoat. He pulled it on. The Irishman reappeared, holding out a piece of cord in his ham-like fist. Etienne took it.
‘Hold her hands.’
‘No! How dare you!’ she panted, but it was useless to struggle. Between them, they soon tied her hands together.
‘I cannot allow you to run off,’ Etienne told her, ‘you are my guarantee.’
She cast him a look of scorn.
Grim as he was, a smile lightened his face for an instant. ‘Oh, those magnificent eyes,’ he murmured.
She struggled but could not loosen the bonds. They lifted her bodily down from the coach. She found herself at the side of a road in the bottom of a valley. There were mighty trees arching up overhead. The road curved away before them. The Irishman led the horses a little further, until they had vanished round the next bend.
‘O’Reilly, do not go too far,’ warned Etienne. The only answer was a growl but the sound of wheels and horses’ hoofs stopped. Etienne put an arm round Kitty’s waist and half pushed, half lifted her into the verge, behind a large tree. Then he turned his back on her and began pulling something out of a small bag he had brought from the coach.
Kitty looked about her for any sign of life. There were no lights nor any houses. Behind the trees bordering the road she could make out thicker patches of woodland. It all seemed dark and deserted. There was nowhere she could run to. She clenched her teeth firmly to stop them chattering.
She turned to see Etienne holding a pistol. In the faint glimmer of starlight, his face was all hard lines and angles. This was a very different creature from the society darling she had known so far. What would her aunt think of him now? At the idea of her aunt, a wave of fear swept over Kitty. Perhaps she would never see Aunt Picton again. What exactly did Etienne plan to do with her?
As if he had read her thoughts, he turned to look at her. ‘You must stay by me and whatever happens, keep silent. If you try to warn anyone, I will shoot to kill. You understand?’
Kitty nodded reluctantly. She was shivering and not just from fear and weariness. Her city clothes were not thick enough for this cold open place. It was difficult to stand up for so long. Her head was heavy and sore. For what seemed an age they stood and waited. Then her ears picked up a faint sound. It came nearer and louder. It was definitely the sound of horses trotting.
Two horses, thought Kitty. She sensed Etienne move slightly. He held up a warning finger to her. He moved out into the centre of the path. The horses came nearer and slowed as they realized there was somebody in front of them.
‘Who goes there?’
Surely, that was Greg’s voice! Kitty felt a glimmer of hope. She opened her mouth to call for help but remembered Etienne’s threat. The riders had slowed to a walking pace now.
‘That is enough. Stop there. I have you covered.’
‘Saint-Aubin? What the devil—?’ That was Theo’s deep voice. Kitty drew in a thankful breath. But would Etienne shoot to kill, as he had threatened? Her heart was pounding. She strugged again with the bonds but they were too tight to shift.
Etienne pointed his pistol at Greg. ‘You are going to give me those letters you are carrying.’
‘The hell I am! You have missed your bet.’
‘I think not,’ replied the Frenchman through clenched teeth. He reached out his free arm and pulled Kitty forward.
The two riders halted.
‘You cur!’ Theo’s voice cut like a knife. He made as if to dismount.
‘One more move and I will shoot her.’
‘You cannot win,’ protested Greg. ‘There are two of us.’
‘But I will shoot off her finger.’
They glanced at each other. ‘What do you want?’ asked Greg.
Etienne gave a bark of laughter. ‘The letters.’
Kitty watched, appalled as, very slowly, Greg unbuckled a leather satchel fastened to the saddle in front of him. If she had not run away from Lady Payne at the art exhibition, if she had not gone again into the Rookery, Greg would not have to lose the result of so much hard work. She shifted slightly.
‘Be still!’ ordered Etienne sharply. He kept his eyes on Greg.
‘Now throw the bag down in front of me,’ ordered Etienne.
Greg flung it towards him. Etienne went down on one knee to pick it up. As he reached for it, Kitty flung herself upon him, knocking him off balance. He rolled sideways and the gun went off. He shouted.
It felt as if a hot wire had gone through her shoulder. Kitty screamed in agony and dropped like a stone.
The last thing she heard was Theo’s voice in a frantic roar: ‘No!’
When Theo made out the figure on the road ahead of them, he was not unduly surprised. The whole business of getting these letters had been highly dangerous from first to last. Undoubtedly, some politicians would try anything up to the last minute to stop Wellington from continuing the campaign in Portugal. That was why he was accompanying Greg on his way down to Portsmouth to board the naval frigate for the return journey to Lisbon. This was also why they were travelling under cover of darkness. They knew the roads well, after all it was in the area of Greg’s family home.
Theo discreetly pulled the pistol out of his belt. He would wait to see what the fellow demanded before shooting the villain. Beside him, Greg was swearing under his breath. They slowed their horses to a walk. At Etienne’s challenge, Theo’s hand moved ready to whip out his gun. Damn it, why had he deloped at the duel last week? Even if he had given the Frenchman a small wound, it would have saved them this unpleasant incident now.
Then, to Theo’s horror, he saw Etienne drag Kitty forward. She had her hands tied. A black rage rushed through him. ‘You cur!’ he exclaimed, in the act of dismounting to help her.
But the villain was threatening to maim her if they did not obey his order. Theo sat taut as a wire, fists clenched hard, trying to see if Kitty had been harmed. Beside him, Greg slowly unbuckled the dispatch case and flung it down in the road. They watched Etienne pounce on it. At the same moment, Kitty flung herself against the Frenchman. He was caught off balance and fell. At that second his pistol went off.
Theo heard the Frenchman shout. He heard and felt Kitty scream. Even as her cry of agony echoed round the little valley, Theo was leaping from his saddle. ‘No!’ He was not aware he was shouting something. He rushed forward. Three strides brought him to Kitty’s side. Etienne was struggling to his feet. Unthinking, Theo aimed a couple of punches, sending the Frenchman flying into the bushes at the side of the road. Then he spun round to kneel over Kitty.
She was lying in a heap, face down. He gently turned her over. His hand came away soaked with blood.
‘Oh no,’ he groaned, ‘oh God—’ He examined her more carefully, untying her hands as he did so. Then he spotted a growing dark stain on the right shoulder of her dress. Without hesitating, he ripped the bodice of her robe open to lay bare the wound. Gently, he felt the damaged flesh. It seemed too high to have penetrated the lung. Theo pressed his hand over the hole but the blood was still flowing through his fingers. He ripped a piece of her petticoat to make a pad.
‘Greg! Brandy, man. Quick!’
Greg had dismounted. He held out his pocket flask. Theo tipped some brandy on the open wound, then bound it up as best he could. His hands were not quite steady.
‘Oh, Kitty, my darling,’ he whispered, looking at her still face in the moonlight. He wiped his bloodstained hands on the grass of the verge and began to chafe her cold hands.
From the bend in the road came a small sound. A shadow moved. Greg raised his own pistol.
‘Come out,’ he said in a firm voice. ‘I have you covered.’
For answer there was a click and a half-hearted report. The blunderbuss had misfired. There was no effect other than the sound of horses neighing in alarm and pulling against the brakes of a carriage. They heard a clatter as the unseen person threw the weapon down. Then heavy footsteps, running away. Greg darted to the corner and saw the shape of a big man disappearing down the road. He discovered the coach and searched it for more men or weapons. Then he turned his attention to Etienne, who was lying just where Theo’s punch had knocked him.
When he returned, Theo had wrapped Kitty in his greatcoat and was attempting to get a little brandy into her mouth, by repeatedly dipping his handkerchief into the flask and then squeezing the couple of drops inside her lips.
‘She is alive – nasty wound, but too high to have touched her lung,’ said Theo, still concentrating on his task. ‘She is as cold as ice, though. Give me your coat, old man.’ He wrapped her in the second driving coat and huddled her in his arms. He looked up at Greg in appeal. ‘Got to get her to shelter quickly. She has gone into shock.’