The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (63 page)

He bellowed for the
others to come. And suddenly there were shouts and men running toward
them.

“
Damn
,”
Reed cursed. There was no cover to hide them until they made it into
the woods. “Quick, run! This way.” He led them toward an opening
in the trees.

“You help Monsieur,”
Tally bade him. “I can run by myself.”

He nodded and went to
help Mr. Mason. Together they lifted Monsieur by hooking their arms
under his and leap-frogging him along.

Bullets began to fly.
She ducked lower but perhaps fifteen lengths from the woods, she
tripped and fell. When Reed would have stopped to help her, she
insisted they get Monsieur to safety first. She took her pistol from
her pocket and shot in the direction of the approaching men.

“Ow! She’s got a
gun! That she-devil has shot me!” The four men flattened themselves
onto the ground. This gave the chance to crawl toward safety in the
wooded area.

Reed crept out to help
her and she turned to shoot again to keep them down and not shooting
at Reed. His arms came around her waist from behind and he
half-lifted, half-dragged her into the trees.

A bullet whizzed past
them and he moved them behind a large tree to allow her to catch her
breath. They’d made it just in time! “The others have gone
further in. Come on.”

Bullets ricocheted off
trees, following them deeper into the woods.

“They can’t see us
this far in, so we’ll keep moving further into the trees,” he
said. “They’ll be afraid to come in. They don’t know how many
of us are here or where we are.”

It must have been mere
minutes, though it felt like hours, when she heard him say, “Ah,
here they are. Will you be alright to move on your own?”

She nodded and he went
to take Monsieur’s other arm. He and Mason more or less carried
Monsieur as they went deeper and deeper into the woods, only stopping
when they arrived at a clearing, where she noticed several pouches
next to two horses tied to a tree.

They lifted her mentor
onto one of the horses, draping his blanket over his legs. Mr. Mason
took the reins and walked slowly beside it, keeping a steadying hand
on Monsieur’s thigh. “We’ll head towards the road,” Reed said
in low tones. He grasped her hand firmly and, going first, led his
horse and them closer to the road.

“We need to follow
the road but we have to be careful to stay far enough away so we
can’t be seen.” Once they were about twenty feet from the road,
he surprised her by leading them away from the closest village.

“They’ll be
expecting us to go towards the village, which is why we’ll go in
the opposite direction.” He started off. “Not a word, now. If
they’re on the road, we don’t want them to hear us.”

They walked in complete
silence for what seemed like hours, then just when she was ready to
beg for a rest, Reed said they were far enough away to stop for the
night.

“Monsieur, are you
all right?” She went to him, after the investigator helped him
down.

“
Pas
mal, ma petite,
” he answered with a weak but wry smile.
“Much better than in that hole. It is nice to see the night sky
again and to breathe in fresh air.”

“We’ll rest here
and wait for our reinforcements. They should be here by dawn,” Reed
reassured them.

“You have
reinforcements?” she asked, amazed at how well prepared they were.

“Yes.” Taking her
blanket, which in their flight had slipped and which she now held
over her arm, he spread it on a log and gestured for her to sit. It
was conveniently lodged against a large tree that provided something
solid to lean back against, as well as offering good cover. “You
know the two men who have been watching us from across the street?”

“You mean those
spies!”

“They were there to
watch over me. They’re my friends and colleagues and, right now,
they’re on their way to meet us with a group of others.”

“Others? How many?
Who?” Would her kidnapping become public fodder, ruining her
reputation, through no fault of her own?

“Can’t say how
many, it depends on how many Spares they find.”

“Spares?” She was
starting to feel foolish repeating his words back at him, but she
couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

“It’s not
important,” he assured her. “You’ll see in the morning. Now,
you and Moreau need to get some sleep.” He removed a roll from
behind his saddle. “You can use this sleeping roll.” He unfurled
it and set it beside the large log on which she was sitting.

Mr. Mason unrolled the
other and indicated Moreau should use it. Monsieur protested, “I’ve
just slept the last month away.”

“Exactly, so you
aren’t as strong as we need you to be tomorrow morning,” the
investigator said.

“
Tres
bien
.” Monsieur’s sagging shoulders spoke of his
weariness. He let himself be tucked into the roll without another
word.

Her dear mentor was
heartsick at his nephew’s betrayal. He looked as if he had the
weight of the world on his shoulders. But no doubt he’d sleep
better tonight knowing there was to be a tomorrow.

She settled into the
other roll and watched sleepily, as both their rescuers wrapped
themselves in the blankets she and Monsieur had used on their way
here. At least they wouldn’t freeze.

They leaned their backs
against different sides of the huge tree. She doubted they intended
to get any real sleep. They were going to keep watch through what was
left of the night.

She was comforted
knowing Reed was right beside her. She wanted to tell him how much
she appreciated his coming to their rescue, but before she could put
voice to a word, her heavy eyelids shut.

* * *

Reed watched Tally’s
eyes close. She was fighting falling asleep, but was too exhausted to
win.

He didn’t speak. He
wanted her to get a few hours rest because when the sun came up, they
needed to be on the move. They had to get out of this area quickly,
before that gun-toting steward was able to amass more support.

Within moments, her
breathing had settled into the deeper, regular pattern of slumber.

He gestured to Mason
that he should catch a few winks while Reed took the first watch. For
the rest of the night, his eyes continually scanned the area around
them, but his gaze kept returning to his sleeping beauty.

It was hard to believe
how much she’d come to mean to him in such a short time.

He’d never have
expected love to hit him like this.

He still wasn’t happy
about the farce he’d been made to play an unwitting role in, but he
had to be honest with himself. His anger stemmed more from
discovering that she was not his wife, than from her acting as if she
were. His mouth twisted into an ironic smile. Now that she was safe,
he had time to re-examine the situation.

At a sudden rustling in
the bush, he turned his head sharply. He was on his way to his feet,
ready to wake Mason, when he spotted the tiny, wayward culprit — a
hare, frozen with fear, staring back at him. Poor thing. Probably
trying to find its way back to its mother. “Go on, little fellow. I
won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “And good luck to you.” He
leaned back against the tree, grateful for its support.

Lord,
he was tired!

Dawn crested before he
realized it. Funny how the night had flown by, now that Tally was
safe beside him. Last night had seemed to last an eternity, despite
their mad dash from London to reach her. He’d been sick at heart
over what atrocities might be inflicted on her. Hoping they wouldn’t
be too late.

He stood and stretched
his arms high above his head and then out to the sides, trying to
work the knots out of his muscles and get his blood moving. Yawning
widely, he leaned over and tapped Mason on the shoulder. “Time to
get up.” He gestured toward the thicker woods. “If you want to go
for a little walk prior to taking over, go ahead.”

When Mason returned,
Reed said in low tones, “I’m going to go see if our friends have
arrived. I wouldn’t want them to stumble into a trap set for us.”

He walked his horse to
a clearing, mounted, and slowly picked his way along, so as not to
wake Tally or Monsieur or alert any of those looking for them to his
presence. Like last night, he kept to the trees while following the
road, but made good time, nevertheless. Someone had been thinning the
trees regularly because he had ample space to ride unimpeded. As he
neared the area leading into the Abbey, he dismounted, tied his horse
to a tree and continued on foot.

He heard the nicker
before he saw the horse and peered cautiously around a tree. Nodding,
he stepped into the clearing and closed in on the horseman.

“Bout time you got
here. We’ve been waiting for hours,” Jace said without turning
his head.

“Damn it, man, do you
have eyes in the back of your head?”

Jace laughed. “Just
my ears.”

Reed made a disgruntled
sound. “Meet anyone interesting?”

“You mean those
four?” He jerked his head toward where four men sat on the ground
tied to two huge elms. “That’s how I knew you were there. Their
eyes spotted you coming. And who else was going to be out here in the
woods at this hour of the morning?”

“Excellent work, my
friend.” Reed felt the tension slacken in his shoulders and neck.
“I was hoping you’d find them before they found you.”

“Where is Mrs.
Leighton?” Jace evinced not a flicker of doubt that Reed had her
safely hidden away somewhere.

“A few miles back,
still slumbering.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the
direction from where he’d just come. “I assumed these clowns
would be looking for us to head towards the village, so we went the
other way.”

“And Moreau, did he
make it?”

“Barely, but he’s
going to be fine.”

“Great,” Jace said.
“When I realized Dubuc wasn’t among this bunch, I sent some of
the others to search for him on the road, to make sure he doesn’t
get the chance to sell those paintings or really set fire to them
this time, before Beauclaire has the chance to remove them.”

His horse side-stepped
skittishly, when an intrepid red squirrel scampered across the
clearing. Unperturbed, he kept talking as he patted its neck to calm
it down. “These four weren’t bashful about blabbing. We know
Dubuc’s on his way back to London. He told them to stay here and
feed the prisoners for another five days, so he could get away safely
to France. Then they were to unlock the door and abandon them to
their fate.” He formed a circle around his mouth with his hands and
made an owl-like hoot, followed quickly by another shorter one. He
repeated the same pattern once more before he settled back to wait.
“Some of the men are in the barn, keeping warm. Others are watching
the road in case there are more of them we don’t know about.”

A short time later,
Reed’s brothers and several more Spares rode into the clearing.
They were followed by Foster, now also on horseback and looking
anxious. He came straight to Reed. “Missy?”

Reed was gratified by
the confidence the old man showed in him by assuming he had rescued
her and not immediately threatening to kill him with his blunderbuss
if he hadn’t saved ‘his Missy’.

“She’s fine. We
freed her last night.” He rested his hand briefly on the old man’s
shoulder. “Moreau too.”

“Good lad!” He
cracked his toothy smile. Although his eyes gleamed happily, Reed
thought he glimpsed traces of moisture gathering in the corners.
Then, as if he were suddenly sitting on bristles, Tally’s butler
straightened in his saddle. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go
find her!” The feisty soldier was back. “That Frenchie is still
out there and I’m not going to let her out of my sight until he’s
dead!” He lifted his blunderbuss from his lap. “I’ll do it, if
I see the bastard. Right between his deceitful little eyes.” He
nodded toward the men tied to the tree. “And if anything had
happened to my Missy, those four would be roasting in Hell for
eternity, blast their eyes!”

A cold snap had blown
in blanketing the entire country with an unseasonable early spring
frost. The patterns in the hoarfrost on the windows fascinated Tally
and she traced them with a chilled finger.

Now that Monsieur was
back in London, she’d given up her idea of returning to Evesham,
much to Foster and Mrs. P’s disappointment. She was eager to get on
with her career plans. She’d assured her loyal friends they’d
only be spending a few months in London, to set up her male painter
identity and work out the business side with Monsieur. Once that was
done, they’d be moving to the countryside, but not to her parents’
home. She didn’t want to return there, where her brothers might
return and be tempted to again try to wrest her money away from her.

Once she recovered her
funds, which her attorney assured her was imminent, she intended to
buy her own place, closer to London, where she would set up her
studio. She hoped to convince Foster to retire, but continue living
with her. She couldn’t bear the thought of parting from him. He was
her own special family and she wanted to take care of him as he grew
older, just like he’d been taking care of her since long before
Great Aunt Ida died.

She abandoned her icy
window drawings to continue going through the stack of her paintings,
which happily had all been recovered from Victor’s rooms She’d
set them up by the window where the light was best. She paused to
look at each painting, absently assessing its worth, while her mind
continued along another path.

It was only thanks to
Reed that her art work had been found at all. She wished he were here
to thank.

Soon, when Monsieur was
stronger, they would begin exhibiting her paintings in shows and
selling them. He’d already contacted the buyer of her two paintings
from the Royal Academy Exhibit and explained that, unbeknownst to
him, they’d been sold under false pretences and were not Wendal
Lawton’s work. He’d offered to buy them back if the man no longer
wanted them. But the buyer had refused, saying it was the paintings
and not the artist that had convinced him to buy. He agreed to have
her, or rather her male counterpart, put the proper signature on them
and had accepted a partial refund. As a new artist, just starting to
sell her work, her prices could not be anywhere near her father’s...
yet.