He hadn’t even flinched. Instead, he made a stirrup of his fingers to boost Gemma up to the saddle, then vaulted on behind her. Gemma could see Elliot sprinting across the field, reloading his pistol as he came. She could see the fury on his face and grinned broadly. Harper sawed on the reins and kicked the horse to a gallop as Elliot stopped, leveling the pistol and firing again. A section of the tree that the horse had been tethered to exploded as the shot found its mark. But, by then, Gemma and Harper were several yards away and moving fast along a rutted lane.
Harper stirred the reins once more and as they rode, she looked back over her shoulder. Elliot stood in the lane, pistol held down in one hand, staring after them. She wasn’t close enough to see his expression but knew that it would be rage. The next time she saw him, she was not sure he would be able to hold back the impulse to kill her outright.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Nathan had not slept. Nor had he been idle. The evening had been spent in the company of old acquaintances, men whose loyalty he was absolutely sure of. That loyalty had been earned long ago and paid for in blood. Walter had been turned by the devilish insinuations of Dunkeswick, but these men would remain true. The planning had gone on long into the evening in a smoke-filled room in the city. Much wine and brandy had been consumed by some of those present, though Nathan had resisted.
The urge to imbibe had been almost as powerful as the need to breathe. But he needed to keep his head clear. For Gemma’s sake and Emily’s. Now, plans had been set in motion and there was little for him to do except wait for the next move of his enemies. Marshall had been devotedly attentive, unwilling to leave his side until Nathan ordered him to retire for the evening. Messages had been relayed to Walter Carlisle and to a house south of the Ouse, in the Tanners district.
Walter may ignore my message and I cannot blame him. Looking at my behavior from the outside, I may have come to the same conclusion as he if confronted with a clever manipulator. Which is what Dunkeswick clearly is.
But the other message was the one that Nathan had pinned his hopes on. A lure to draw his enemy to him. The sun was gently warm on his face where he sat in the drawing room, before one of the ground floor’s large bay windows. It told him the time of day better than the ticking clock on the mantelpiece. Fatigue hung on him but he pushed it aside, forcing his senses to acuteness by focusing on the smallest perceptible details he could distinguish. It could not be much longer now.
Moments later, there was a commotion outside. Hurried footsteps, Marshall’s protests, and the brash voice of a young Yorkshireman commanding the servant aside. Nathan frowned, wondering if this was the moment of reckoning. Then another voice reached him. A woman’s voice he had come to know well. He lurched from his seat, all concept of location deserting him. Time and space fell away in the surge of excitement he felt at the sound of her voice.
He spun to face the door as it opened.
“Nathan!” Gemma cried.
Nathan had a moment to hear her rushing across the room and then she was in his arms. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. There was a smell of hay about her for some reason. She returned his embrace fiercely and was whispering something over and over again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. It is forgotten entirely,” Nathan soothed.
“I broke my word. I thought I was sparing you,” Gemma babbled.
“I know. And it is forgotten, utterly. There is nothing to forgive,” Nathan reassured her.
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace,” Marshall said.
Nathan felt a flash of anger. “Miss Stamford does not intrude,” he snapped.
“I think he meant me, Your Grace,” said an unfamiliar voice.
It was the broad Yorkshire burr that he had heard through the door. Without relinquishing his embrace of Gemma, Nathan turned his head in the direction of the voice.
“And who are you?”
“Richard Harper at your service, Your Grace. Formerly, Captain Richard Harper of the 95th.”
Nathan frowned. “Seems I know that name. You served in Spain?”
“I was promoted from the ranks in Spain, Your Grace. For leading the forlorn hope at Badajoz,” Harper replied.
“Nasty work, being the first into a breach. Promotion was well earned in that case. What is your business with Miss Stamford?”
“I rescued her from imprisonment at the hands of a rogue called Elliot Stamford.”
Harper delivered this in a matter-of-fact voice that sent a chill of ice through Nathan.
“Imprisoned?” Nathan repeated in a hoarse whisper.
“Eugene caught up with me, thanks to your trusty butler,” Gemma said. “And they have Emily too.”
“Marshall now understands the error he made. I can assure you he is still trustworthy. What is your role in all of this, Mr. Harper.”
“I am Emily’s betrothed.”
