The Highwayman's Bride (21 page)

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Authors: Jane Beckenham

Tags: #Romance, #Historical Romance, #England, #Regency Romance, #Love Story, #London

BOOK: The Highwayman's Bride
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“Believe what?”

“That your heart’s desire will accept love.”

“But he refuses to listen.” Hadn’t that been obvious when he’d read her letter to Tulip and though she’d tried to explain its contents, Aiden had focused solely on his belief that she was guilty. That way he didn’t have to abandon the hatred that had propelled him through his own perceived guilt.

“Oh, I don’t mean words. I mean listen with his heart and his head, and look into your eyes.”

Tess rubbed her mittened hand across her face, trying desperately to stay awake. “I’m not sure he can. He’s so hell-bent on the guilt he carries. Betrayal. Revenge. Hurt. Those are the words he listens to, not love.”

“Time, m’lady. Give him time. He will have to choose soon. It is only time.”

They sat quietly then, Tess contemplating the woman’s words, realizing her great knowledge and wisdom.

It was all about trust. Trusting herself, her decisions, her reasoning, and her heart. And trusting that Aiden would find his way.

Finally, it was time to return to the Hall and pack up her belongings, say good-bye, and leave.

Why not stay and fight for what you want? What you need. For Aiden’s love.

Standing, she kissed the old woman’s cheek, taking her weathered hands in hers. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“’Tis nothing but words.”

“Words that matter, nevertheless, and for which I am grateful. That, and your sweet tea and delicious stew,” Tess said nodding toward her empty mug and bowl. “I’ll arrange for the gamekeeper to drop off some supplies.”

As Tess exited the cottage, the old woman grabbed her arm, her face flushed, and eyes darkly intense. “Go back to the Hall, m’lady, but be warned, the writing is not what it seems. Beware of the joker and his dungeon for he is dangerous and no fool. Where revenge festers, it staunches the heart’s ability to love.”

“I don’t understand. You are talking in riddles again.”

“Nay, m’lady, I tell it as I see it. The good Lord shows me and I pass it on. Now go and choose your path, and whatever you do, trust your choices.”

Choices?

The word swirled round and round in her brain as she walked back to Charnley and though the weather had worsened, snow now deep across the horizon, she didn’t care. She had choices to make.

She arrived to the concerns of Barlow and her maid, but setting their minds at rest, she climbed the stairs with leaden feet.

Choices. Trust your decisions
.

Now all she had to do was wait for Aiden to return.


The house lay quiet the next morning, everyone on edge waiting for Aiden’s and Jasper’s return. The weather had worsened so that going for her daily walk proved impossible.

As she struggled to concentrate on a story in the latest edition of
The Ladies’ Magazine
, someone hammered on the front door, accompanied by shouts from Barlow. Tossing her periodical aside, she raced from the morning room, reeling to a halt as fear gripped her in its vicious hold. She wanted to be sick.

Crouched low with his back to her, Barlow cradled a body in his arms.

“Oh, dear God. Aiden.” Her screech reverberated off the walls and she fell to her knees beside them at the same moment he looked up.

“Jasper.” Tess squeezed her eyes closed. Not Aiden. Not her beloved.

Jasper reached for her hand. “You’ve got to warn him, Tess. Save him. Aiden’s in grave danger.”

Battered and bruised, his lips split, his bloodshot eyes full of remorse settled on her. “I’m sorry, ’tis my fault. I played with the devil incarnate.”

“Oh, dear God, Jasper, what have you done?”

“’Tis Nash.”

Nash! Dread soured in her stomach and her hand automatically pressed there.

“I thought I could sort it out just like Aiden said, but the bastard’s too smart. He said unless I wrote to Aiden, my debt would double.”

“He blackmailed you?”

“I sold my soul for my brother’s life. You must find him, Tess. Warn him. ’Tis all in the letter.” Jasper flopped backward, Barlow catching him before he hit the floor.

The witch’s prophecy?

Grabbing Jasper’s shoulders, she shook him. A moan spluttered from his broken lips. She didn’t care. “Jasper, you wake up, do you hear me? Wake up. What letter? Where is Aiden? What danger?”

His swollen purple-black eyelids fluttered partially open. “I wrote him that he must meet me at the Joker’s Inn on the Isle of Dogs.”

“But that’s at least four hours ride away.”

“Aye. The farther the better, Nash said. Besides it’s where his stash is.”

“The champagne.”

Surprise, despite his wounds, registered in Jasper’s expression. “You know about it?”

“I do. Now when is this meeting?”

“Today.”

Tess fell back on her haunches as the reality of Jasper’s words sunk in. Today? It would take hours to reach him.

“The letter, m’lady,” Barlow intoned. “’Tis still in the breakfast room.”

“Get it.”

The devoted Barlow scrambled to his feet, returned a few seconds later and thrust the letter into her hands. Sure enough, everything Jasper had said was confirmed on the parchment.

The letter fluttered from her fingertips as she stood, but her knees buckled beneath her momentarily.

She wrenched herself upright. Now was not the time for histrionics. “Have Flynn saddle Dandy, Barlow. I leave immediately.” She needed to find Aiden.

She turned for the stairs and then hesitated. “And the pistol, I’ll need to borrow that again, if I may?”

“For certain, m’lady.”

Tess wasted no time and charged up the stairs into her room, sinking down on her knees beside the bed.

Not for prayers. She had no time for them, but hoped God knew she needed Him. Reaching under the bed, she withdrew her men’s garb once more.

Parading in country lanes dressed as a man was one thing, but heading to the seedy mean streets of the Isle of Dogs meant that her disguise would be more important than ever.

Ten minutes later she descended the stairs. Barlow solemnly held out the pistol and a canvas bag for her. “You’ll need some sustenance as ’tis a long way. Take the ferry from Creekside, that’ll get you across the river closer to the Dogs. Beware of those that roam the Dogs, m’lady.” His aged face creased with worry. “Are you sure I cannot go, or at least take Flynn with you?”

Tess rested a hand on his arm. “No. Alone is best. That way I will cause less interest if anyone is about.”

“With the weather freezing I doubt there’ll be many abroad,” Jasper added.

“Let’s hope not.” Tess took the bag from Barlow and positioned the long strap over one shoulder so that it lay flat against her chest. The pistol she tucked into the belt that held her trousers up.

“Tess,” Jasper croaked, clearing his throat. “Keep safe…and tell him I’m sorry.”

Tess held herself rigid, knowing if she allowed one ounce of fear or panic to gain further purchase she would crumple on the spot. She had to stay strong for Aiden’s sake. “You can tell him yourself when we return.”

In minutes she was atop Dandy and headed toward Creekside.

The ride proved brutal. She struggled to stay on the horse as it pitched every which way, the icy ground underfoot treacherous.

At last she reached the rutted pathway leading to the Creekside Ferry. She reined in Dandy and scanned her surroundings.

The place was deserted, the ferry moored. Dismounting, she tied Dandy to a nearby tree and took the narrow plank that acted as a bridge and boarded the ferry. At one end of the simple flat-bottomed barge was a canvas awning, the flap partially drawn back.

Nerves pirouetting in her belly, she did her best to ignore her increasing panic. “Hello. Is anyone there?” She yanked back the flap.

“’Ere, wot you doing? I’m trying to sleep.”

“And I’m trying to get across the river. Get up.”

“Not likely. The bloody thing is frozen. No crossing today. Not even in the barge. Nothing’s getting across.”

Alarm fired. “But you have to. I have to get to the Isle of Dogs.”

“Not today you ain’t unless you go the long way.”

“I don’t have time.”

“Neither did the other ‘un. Well, laddie, I guess you have to go the hard way.”

Her brows creased. “The hard way,” she repeated, realizing exhaustion and the freezing conditions were taking their toll. She gritted her teeth and steeled her spine. “I have to get across.” She looked to her right where the path trailed the edge of the river.

“Nay, not there.” He thumbed instead toward the frozen river. “You better start walking across.”

Raising a hand to protect her face from the icy wind Tess peered over the frozen waters.

Walk across it? Could she?

Choices, Tess.

She had no choice. “Is it possible?”

“Who knows,” he shrugged. “Just depends how desperate you are.”

Very.

“I will walk, but I’ll leave my horse here.” She dug in the pocket of her jacket beneath her cloak, and withdrew a gold coin. “Look after him well, and there will be another on my return.”

“Double it, laddie, for I fear ye may not return.”

He meant she might die. She knew that when she started out, but it had not held her back. Nothing would, if it meant saving Aiden.

Deciding it best not to think too much about death, she flipped the man another coin and tethered Dandy as best she could. At the river’s edge she gazed skyward, squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Lead me to him.”

She shoved her hands in her pockets for extra warmth, but the gloved fingers of her right hand rubbed against something. She withdrew it and held it up. “The snowdrop.”

Believe,
the old witch had said.
Believe enough and it will come true. Trust in your decisions.

Tess brought the dried flower to her lips, kissed it, then tucked it back into her pocket and slid a foot out onto the ice, tentatively putting her weight on it.

One step. Two. Then another and another.

The frozen river held beneath her, and while her fear hadn’t abated, a sense of possibility seeped into her consciousness.

It seemed to take forever, with each step a deathtrap waiting, and by the time she reached the far side of the river, despite the freezing temperature, her body was coated in sweat.

She took a moment to gather her bearings, surprised as several young women raced past. Their hair was tied with a myriad of colored bows, faces adorned with whorls of red rouge. Others followed, then more and more.

Tess stalled a woman, a child propped on one hip, another holding her skirts. “Excuse me. Do you know where the Joker’s Inn would be?”

The woman eyed her with caution. “This way,” she said nodding in the direction she was heading. “Though it will be quiet today, and you’ll find no girls for ye there. They be at the fayre.”

“What fayre?”

“The frost fayre. The river is frozen solid and the carnival is setting up. There be buskers and trinkets aplenty. Everything you fancy, though if ye be heading to Jokers,” she said with a sly grin, “trinkets will not be what ye after, eh?”

It took Tess a moment to comprehend the woman. “Oh, no. No. I’m—” She clamped her mouth closed. Better the woman thought her a man seeking the arms of a hussy than a woman traveling alone. With a curt nod, Tess headed off in the direction of the Joker’s Inn. “Aiden,” she whispered, “I’m coming.”

Chapter Eighteen

A tisket, a tasket what is in your basket?

For if ye be going to the frost fayre,

beware of the Joker for the thief be close by.

Mirabelle’s Musings

February 14, 1814

Tess walked boldly into the Joker’s Inn, then instantly inhaled a deep breath to thwart the rancid stench of ale mixed with unwashed bodies. Heart hammering so hard she thought it would explode; she peered across the hazy room.

Aiden. Aiden, where are you?

But her plea remained unspoken as she circled the room.

Dungeons and jokers…

The witch’s warning came suddenly to attention. She turned full circle again and again until her mind spun, as did her body.

Where was he?

Then she heard a voice.

“Champagne?”

Tess spun around and caught sight of a doxy holding a bottle high in one hand while her other grazed the cheek of a man in front of her. She winked at him. “There be more over there,” she said thumbing toward the other side of the room. Perhaps you might want Pixie too,” she cooed, dotting a kiss to his bald pate and pressing her overflowing bosom into him. The man wrapped his fleshy paws around her waist and pulled her onto his lap accompanied by the woman’s shrieks and giggles.

A door slammed closed and Tess twisted around, but saw nothing except a wall with a dingy gray curtain hanging halfway across. Checking that no one watched her, she wove her way between the tables, mindful not to lock eyes with anyone as she made for the curtained wall. She lifted the fabric away, gasping with delight.

Not a wall, but a door!

So what she’d heard had been correct. A cellar meant
a dungeon.

Surprised it opened easily, she quickly slipped behind the wall of fabric and through the door, greeted by the shadowy flicker of tallow candles burning low.

“Aiden? Aiden?” Her whisper echoed a thousandfold as she made her way down, alert for any response.

She reached the bottom tread, and held her breath. “Aiden?”

A scratching echoed to her left and icy fear crawled the length of her spine. Her heart thundered. She listened. There it was again. And again.

Rats. Just rats. Not Aiden.

Disappointment crushing and tears threatening, she scraped the sleeve of her woolen jacket across her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

Find Aiden. Find him.

Another noise.

But where from? She peered into the hazy darkness, unable to discern anything.

Snatching a candle from its holder, she held it aloft and took a step closer.

A groan.

“Aiden?”

Tess drew the candle in an arc in front of her, highlighting a pile of wooden crates and barrels. “Aiden! Aiden! I’m coming.”
Thank you, God. Thank you.

Clambering over the rubble, she tossed aside one box after another, rolling a barrel so she could slip past.

Darkness. All dark. She held the candle in front of her. There. On the ground.

“Aiden!” Tess stumbled across the debris and fell to her knees at his side. “Dear God, what have they done to you?”

Depositing the candle in a tin mug lying beside him, she gently drew back a clump of sodden hair from his face, only to realize the dampness was not water, but sticky blood. Aiden’s blood.

His fingers clawed at her arm. “Go! Do not stay.”

“Shush, my lord.” Tess quickly took stock of his injuries. Blood matted his hair to his scalp and his eyes were swollen and virtually closed. His bottom lip was split, clothes splattered with blood, but no bones appeared to be broken. “Nash did this?”

“Aye. You need to go, Tess.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Stubborn wife.”

“Absolutely.” She clasped him under one arm, her other around his shoulders. “Can you get up?”

But his eyes were closed again.

Fear spiraled. “No! Wake up, Aiden. You cannot go to sleep. Wake up!”

Nothing.

“Aiden, wake up. Do you hear me?” She wouldn’t lose him now. Couldn’t. She loved him, no matter what.

“The whole of England can hear you, sweet Tess.”

Sweet Tess.

Tess sighed her relief, even more so as Aiden’s eyes opened just enough for her to witness the twinkle in their depths.

“Good. Now get up. We are getting out of here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Using her for support, he pushed himself to a sitting position. Pain razored across his brutalized face.

“How did you get here?”

“I followed in your footsteps.”

“But the river has frozen and the ferry master at Creekside barely agreed to take me.”

“He also refused me.”

“What?”

“I went by foot across the river.”

“Good God, Tess.” Aiden shook his head, only to wince as pain struck again.

“Enough about my passage to this den of iniquity. We need to get going.”

“Jasper wasn’t here.”

Her mouth pursed. “No. It was a ruse. Jasper admitted it all.”

“He’s at the Hall?”

“He is, though his bruises will give yours a run for your money.”

“What happened?”

“Mr. Nash’s handiwork. The man is apparently Jasper’s creditor.”

“The bastard.”

“Definitely. Not content with brutalizing Mary, he used Jasper’s weakness for his own gain, and when Jasper couldn’t pay back the mounting debt, he blackmailed him into writing the letter to get you here. Now,” she said, “No more questions, it’s time we left.”

Once upright, Aiden leaned on her. “There is one more thing. I acted like an ass. I accused you horribly, yet I realized that you had risked your life for me, and here you are doing it again.”

Tess put her finger to his swollen lips. “I told you it was to warn you. If I did not warn you—and unfortunately Nash and my uncle—you might have been arrested along with them. Or worse—killed. Nash would weasel his way out of anything, but I could not take that risk with your life. I had no choice… And Jasper was in no state to ride to the Dogs.”

For a few moments Aiden remained silent and Tess held her breath, waiting for condemnation.

“Sweet, sweet, Tess,” he said reaching out to cup her face. “You are a brave soul. Perhaps,” he said, his mouth curving into a crooked grin, “a tad foolhardy, but stubborn and brave and so, so beautiful that my heart aches.”

“Along with the rest of your body, no doubt.”

“Aye, but there is one thing I request before we head out of here, one thing I need more than the air I breathe.”

“There is no time.”

“There is always time for this. Would you kiss me?”

“Your lips,” she said of his bloodied mouth. “A kiss would hurt.”

“A pain I readily accept if those lips are yours.”

Though anxious to escape their dungeon, she could not refuse his request and, standing on her tiptoes, she lifted her mouth to his, touching him as gently as she could.

A soft sigh expunged from him. “Ah, yes, I had not forgotten. If this is the last thing I feel, my sweet Tess, then I will die a satisfied man.”

Tess broke away. “Die. Do not mention the word. That is not going to happen. Is there another exit from this hellhole?”

“Unfortunately not. I listened to Nash and his cohorts’ comings and goings and only ever did I hear them clomp up and down stairs. No other door except for the one above us.”

“Then that is what we will do.”

“The innkeeper is one of Nash’s men, though I only realized it the moment Nash’s truncheon connected with my skull. The man called me m’lord. He knew who I was.”

“So we have no choice.”

Choice. There was that word again.

Reaching around him, Tess drew him up the first step, then another and another until they reached the landing. The door was still closed, but the echo from the patrons easily reached through.

“You are going to be my prisoner.” In the flickering candlelight, Tess searched for what she needed. She spied wax-coated ropes that tied the candleholders to a nail in the wall. Tess quickly untied one from its position and snuffed out the candle, tossing it to the floor. “Hold out your hands.”

“What?”

“Hold them out, Aiden. I’m going to tie you up. This way it’ll make it real.”

“I thought my battered visage made it real.”

“That too,” she said, tying the rope around his wrists and knotting it securely. “Now do as I say, and say nothing.” She kissed him hard on the mouth, earning a groan in return.

With a deep breath, she yanked open the door and stepped out, pulling Aiden with brutal force behind her. “Ye no bloody good cur, do what you’re told.” Her palm connected with Aiden’s jaw and his head snapped back.

God help her. And him.

Fist securely wrapped around the rope, she hauled Aiden after her. Thankfully he uttered not one word. But as they made their way across the inn, all eyes focused on them. Tess held her breath, refusing eye contact with a soul. Then she spied the innkeeper. He stared hard at her, and reached quickly beneath the counter.

A pistol?

She found the pistol hidden beneath her cloak and aimed its muzzle directly at the innkeeper, though from this distance it would be a diversion at best.

She kept heading for the door. “Keep going, you ungodly bastard.” She yanked Aiden again, earning a wail of pain from him.

She hoped it was exaggerated, for appearances’ sake.

Just as they reached the exit of the seedy hellhole, the innkeeper came to a standstill in front of their doorway to freedom. He aimed his pistol directly at her. “Going somewhere?”

“Aye, doing Nash’s business,” she said, trying to keep her chin down so that he couldn’t look into her eyes.

“He didn’t tell me the prisoner would be moved.”

Tess shrugged. “Only doing what I’m told. You wouldn’t want him angry, would you?”

She spied the sudden wash of fear in the man’s expression and knew she’d hit the right vein of deceit. “Last time I saw someone disobey ‘is orders, the man lost an eye and an arm. You prepared for that?”

The man’s uncertainty escalated. He looked to Aiden, and then back to her.

Tess held her breath. Waited. Prayed.

Finally, he stepped aside and Tess wanted to smile, to breathe a sigh of relief, but remained vigilant. “Better we get going, or the guv be angry.” She tugged the rope harder this time and Aiden all but fell at her feet.

Outside, she didn’t ease up until they had turned the corner and the rope fell from her fingertips as if an anathema.

Aiden slumped against the wall behind them. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. That was as real as I would ever like it to be.”

Reaching for the rope again, she quickly untied the knots, freeing his hands. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll run if I need to,” he said, though Tess noted his labored breathing and his struggle to stand upright. “I tethered Phantom close by. Hopefully he’s still there.”

Tess tugged off her jacket, laying it over Aiden’s battered face. “That’ll make you look like a drunk sleeping off your indulgence,” she said. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

“Yes, m’lady. Whatever you say.”

Heart pumping and ignoring the chill quickly seeping beneath her clothing, she raced around to the back of the inn and spied Phantom. “Come on, you beauty. Time to go home.”

In minutes, with Aiden propped up on the horse, Tess guided them through the winding alleyways, deciding it best to keep away from the main road. This way, at least, they had some protection.

At the river’s edge the frost fayre was in full swing.

“We need to get to the wharf,” Tess said pointing to the other side of the fayre. “Perhaps the ferry is back in service.”

Aiden lifted his swollen gaze skyward. “I doubt it. Those clouds indicate colder weather is yet to come.”

Just then a juggler passed, his gaudy costume adorned with bells all jangling a discordant tune as he tossed his multi-colored balls in the air. Next came a flamethrower, downing his swords of flame.

Another time and another place and she would have loved to walk amidst it all.

As she turned from the cacophony of festival-goers, she spied a face in the crowd. “Nash!” Tess grabbed at Phantom’s reins, but Aiden slid from the horse.

“We need to move now. He’s here.”

Propelling him to the right, tugging Phantom behind, they made to skirt the fayre.

Too late.

Nash redirected too and wove his way through the throng, closing in on them.

“This way.” She spun around, heading farther among the stallholders, her feet sliding over the ice as she increased her speed.

Suddenly, the crowd parted. They were clear of the fayre, coming out by a small jetty with several upturned rowboats scattered along its length.

“Under there.” She pointed, “If we hide, it might give us some time.”

Aiden slapped the horse on the rump. “Go! Go!”

The horse bolted away.

Tess cast a sideways glance at Aiden. “Stay with me, Aiden, I will not lose you.”

“I’ve no intention of going anywhere. I don’t think I’d make more than twenty yards on my own.” He clutched his chest. “Think the bastard broke a rib or two.”

They had not gone more than five feet before a shadow stepped out in front of them.

“Don’t hurry, Charnley, you’re not going anywhere. Nor you, missy.” Florian Nash held a pistol in each hand directed toward them.

“Get out of our way, Nash. You’ve proven your point.” Aiden straightened, though Tess witnessed the pain flittering across his face.

“Not quite. You’re still alive.” His mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile. “And I presume you are the illustrious Countess of Charnley. I’d bow, but well, you can see I’m otherwise occupied.”

“Leave us be, Mr. Nash. You’ve got your champagne,” Tess pleaded.

“I do.” His sneer broadened. “But I don’t take kindly to someone trying to hand me over to the law.” He cocked both pistols. “Not nice at all, Charnley. And you meddling,” he said nodding to her, “well, that’s rather annoying. You’re like an insect that needs to be squashed.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything.” He bit out a whiskey-soaked croak of laughter. “I’ve had your sister, and those jewels fetched a tidy sum. And I am making a good bit of interest off your brother. But you nosing around is becoming rather tiresome.”

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