Highest Stakes (41 page)

  "She has eloped, ma'am." Letty burst into tears.

  "Eloped! Charlotte has eloped! Sir Garfield!" the lady shrieked, stirring the entire household. Clutching the quaking maid, she dragged her frantically down the stairs.

  "What is all the infernal commotion?" Sir Garfield demanded.

  "Charlotte has absconded in the night!"

  "What! The devil she has! That disobedient, ungrateful little wretch! When?"

  Letty now sobbed violently.

  "Ye'd better answer well or be horsewhipped, gel!" His threat brought forth only more hysterics. Lady Felicia shook the woman out of her fit.

  "After ye all went out t-to Vauxhall." Red eyed, Letty sniffed out her confession. "M-must've been about ten of the clock."

  "Devington! Did she run off with Devington?" He interrogated the quivering maid but knew the answer.

  "It w-was Captain Robert." Letty recommenced her wailing.

  "Charles!" Sir Garfield spun to face his son. "I shall demand satisfaction of that scoundrel! We must find them before Uxeter gets wind of this. I shall not have everything ruined by that upstart!"

  "But, Father," the befuddled Charles responded, clutching his throbbing head, "if we don't know where they went, how the devil are we to catch them?"

  "Think, boy! Where could they go but to Scotland? They can't bloody well marry anywhere else."

  "But they have a whole night's start on us. Impossible to catch them."

  "Leave that to me, m'boy. Are the horses put to?" Sir Garfield demanded of the footman.

  "Indeed, sir. The coachman's been waiting this hour or more."

  "Come, Charles, I know just the man to assist in this hour of need." He spoke grimly, and the pair made haste to the waiting carriage.

  Early morning traffic was sparse. They arrived at Whitehall within twenty minutes. Sir Garfield unceremoniously disembarked from his carriage and waylaid the first trooper he encountered.

  "Major Philip Drake," he demanded. "I must see him at once!"

  "Know you which unit he commands, sir?" the soldier asked.

  "Horse Guards, of course! Why the devil would I come here otherwise? I have no time to waste on such impertinence!"

  The soldier considered having some fun with the pretentious sod, but the man's purpling demeanor was so agitated, he thought wiser of it. "You might try the stables. A party of officers was departing for Newmarket this morning. He may have been amongst them."

  Sir Garfield ungraciously spun around and barked to the coachman to carry them to the stables, hoping to catch his quarry. As luck would have it, the four officers had already departed, but Sir Garfield was resolute. He directed his coachman to the Newmarket Road, sparing not the whip.

  Charles, now acutely experiencing the effects of his excesses, fell violently ill with the rocking and swaying of the pitching vehicle. Only fear of transferring his father's wrath onto his own head kept him from halting the coach. He suffered in miserable agony until he was finally lost to sleep.

  They covered fifty miles in record time, pulling into the stable yard of the Crown at Great Chesterford just as the officers were mounting to depart the inn. Spotting Major Drake within the group, Sir Garfield abruptly halted and leaped from the coach, with Charles staggering behind.

  "Drake! I demand a word with you instantly!"

  Winthrop looked at the baronet and then cast Philip a quizzing look. Philip said with measured insouciance, "'Twould appear I am to be detained, gentlemen. Pray go on without me. I'll catch up anon."

  Unperturbed, Philip dismounted, and the three remaining officers spurred their horses out of the stable yard.

  "Might I inquire what has you in such a state, Sir Garfield?"

  "You know damned well what this is about!" the baronet roared.

  Philip blinked innocently and said with an ingenuous protest, "I am quite benighted, sir."

  "I don't hold for a minute that you are ignorant or innocent of this… conspiracy! I speak of Charlotte and Devington. Do you deny knowledge of their elopement?"

  "I am uninvolved in any such adventure," Philip replied impassively.

  "Uninvolved, are you? Well, you are about to become very much
involved
, Drake. The brigand absconded with my niece last night, and I have every reason to believe they are for Scotland."

  "As I am not the one who eloped with your niece, I fail to see how this concerns me."

  "You, Drake, are this moment charged with retrieving my niece before she is ruined, or you shall not see a penny of my money. Beatrix will go forth to a nunnery before I let you get away with this trickery! I will not be made the fool twice!"

  "'Tis a near impossible task you thrust upon me," Philip contended. "By your account, they have half a day's start, and I know not by which route."

  "They can't have taken any public coach. I am well acquainted with the schedules. The Edinburgh stage departs on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The mail does not run on Sundays, and a private conveyance would be far too dear for the likes of the captain. I surmise that they rode out on horseback."

  Philip could not help appreciate the man's deductive reasoning. "You are likely correct in your assertion, sir."

  "And as Devington travels with a woman, they cannot hope to outrun the pace you will set to overtake them."

  "You may not realize what a neck-or-nothing rider Charlotte is, Father," Charles interjected. Excited by the prospect of a chase, he eagerly volunteered, "I'll accompany Major Drake. No doubt he will need assistance once he finds them."

  "You'll do no such thing, impudent puppy! You couldn't even sit a horse in your present condition. Ridiculous notion! Besides, you are to ride in the King's Plate. We shall proceed as planned."

  "But as your son and Charlotte's close male relative," Charles argued, "is it not my duty to defend our family's honor?"

  "Under the circumstances, I think not, m'boy. You have no knowledge of swordplay, and Devington, although a scoundrel, is an experienced soldier. The major is much better qualified to take care of this ugly business."

  Notwithstanding his longtime friendship with Robert, Charles was angered and humiliated to be brushed aside by his father as unworthy to the task. However, with no horse or weapon at his disposal, he had to swallow his pride and continue with his father to Newmarket.

  "You have five days, Drake. Five days to return my niece. I shall have satisfaction! I hope I am completely understood in the matter." He issued a challenging look.

"Indubitably," Philip replied with a subtle clench of his jaw.

  "Five days!" Sir Garfield repeated and strode back to his carriage, followed by his sulking son.

  "Bloody hell!" Philip cursed, remounting Hawke and spurring him northward.

Robert and Charlotte rode through the night at a punishing pace, stopping only to rest and water their horses. By noon, with over sixty miles behind them, they arrived on the outskirts of Northampton. Famished and near spent, they needed a decent meal and a couple of hours rest if they were to continue any farther. Wary to avoid traffic at any of the larger coaching inns, they located a small tavern where the captain and his young
cousin
greedily partook of a hearty but rustic meal of meat pasties, bread, cheese, and small beer.

  "Nothing ever tasted so good," Charlotte uttered between mouthfuls, heedless of good manners. "I feared I would drop from the saddle if we had to ride another mile."

  "My fears exactly, young
Charles
," he tenderly reminded her of caution. "While I am accustomed to hard riding and sparse comfort, we have yet many miles ahead of us. If I bespeak a room for you for a few hours rest, do you think you might be able to carry on?"

  "I appreciate your solicitude, but pray don't fear for me. I don't profess to being equal to a hardened soldier, but I am made of sterner stuff than you think. Allow me but a couple of hours repose, and I shall prove my fortitude." Her wan smile didn't fool him for a moment.

  "I estimate another forty miles or so to Leicester. If we push, we can take rooms tonight at the Old Greyhound. 'Tis a clean and decent establishment with tolerable food. They frequently billet troops, so our presence should go unremarked."

  Robert paid the reckoning for their meal and escorted Charlotte to the single shabby room over the tavern. Observing her ragged condition and their dingy quarters, he was overcome with guilt. He grasped both her hands in his. "You deserve so much better than this, my little love. I just pray you never grow to hate me for taking you away."

  She had run away from a betrothal to a nobleman, who would have assured her a title and comfort, just to settle for an uncertain future with a penniless captain.

  "Don't you understand, Robert? This signifies nothing to me." She gestured at their surroundings. "It matters only that we are together and free at last to make our lives."

  A wave washed over him, a swell of love so powerful he thought he would drown in it. He never loved her more than in this moment. He wanted to pull her to him and bathe her in the depths of his love, but this was neither the time, nor, he thought more grimly, the place. Instead, he lay beside her on the narrow bed, holding her close, stroking her hair, sheltering her in the protection of his arms.

  Basking in this moment, Charlotte pressed her head to his drumming heart. She closed her eyes, and instantly, exhaustion overtook her while Robert dozed in a soldier's hazy state of semiconscious vigilance.

  "My little love, you deserve better, and God willing, I shall provide it," he whispered.

Philip Drake rode as if chased by the devil. Damn, damn, and bloody damn! His blood coursed hotly at his ridiculous errand: chasing a pair of runaway lovers across the country. This was one complication he didn't want, didn't need, especially since he had encouraged the elopement.

  Devington had dangled helplessly after the girl, and Philip's machinations had finally compelled him to act, but in suggesting the notion, Philip never once considered that
he
would be coerced to pursue them. But what choice had he?

  He had suggested Charlotte's betrothal to Edmund to solve his own dilemma regarding Beatrix. After all Philip had been through to ensure his future, he couldn't let it simply slip away, especially not if Beatrix was carrying his child. Even putting aside the dowry, he was not such a rogue as to allow her to wed someone else, especially his brother, under the circumstances.

  He openly acknowledged his past rakish behavior, but at heart he was still a gentleman. Now forced to choose, he found he desired to act the part. His intentions were, for once, honorable; he wished to marry Beatrix. But only by retrieving Charlotte and destroying the other couple's happiness could he guarantee his own. His conscience pricked.

  Though part of him hoped Devington would make this an impossible task, Philip was resolved to overtake them and return Charlotte to her uncle. He saw no other way. May the best man win, he thought grimly.

  He knew they already had a twelve to fourteen hour start on him, but just how many miles they'd put behind them before stopping to rest was anyone's guess. Philip would ride hard to gain Leicester, eighty miles from Great Chesterford but over a hundred from London. He calculated his route would afford him a twenty-mile advantage, making up about four hours of their lead.

  Even pushing hard, they couldn't be much more than halfway there by this time. An average soldier, traveling light on a good horse, could cover seven to eight miles per hour and up to seventy miles a day if he rested his horse sufficiently.