Deveraux tensed, ready to leap forward, but North was before him. He snagged Jewitt’s arm, pulling her off balance. She fell against him. “Don’t be a fool. Forget the jewels. This enterprise has been a disaster from beginning to end,” he muttered on a low growl.
“Forget the jewels?”
“Yes, damn it! I never was overly keen on them anyway. They may be worth a king’s ransom, but they’d be difficult to fence. What we have is better and more in line with our original plans. We’ll hold the two of them for ransom. Without Deveraux’s leadership the household will shortly be in disarray. They’ll be only too ready to hand over the flimsies.”
Jewitt nodded, the avid look back in her eyes. “That has merit. But why must we keep her? She’s not worth anything.”
“After watching that touching little scene when we came upon them, I say we use her as surety for his good behavior,” North suggested with a leer.
Noting his expression, Deveraux was sure that was not the only use he intended for her. He felt a black rage consume him. Grimly he struggled to keep his face neutral as Jewitt looked from one to the other.
“Excellent, excellent. The fools. You are such a clever one, Harry. Where do we take them?”
North laughed. “To Miss Leonard’s cottage, of course. It’s remote, and the villagers all believe her at Castle Marin. Up, you two.” He waved his pistol at them. “And where is your horse, Miss Leonard?”
“She went lame about a mile down the road.” She struggled to her feet, her arms hidden under her cloak.
“Tsk, tsk. Now isn’t that too bad? I guess you’ll just have to walk. . . . Now that I think of it, that’s a good idea for both of you. Less likely to try and do something foolish, like an escape.” He waved the pistol at them, hurrying them before him.
The clouds were growing denser, grayer, and the wind had picked up, rattling the bare branches, whistling through the bushes, and whipping at the corners of Leona’s cloak. She held it tightly about her. She and Deveraux watched impassively as North mounted Nuit, settling into the saddle with a satisfied smile on his face. The horse sidled a moment under the unfamiliar weight but settled down quickly. Briefly, Deveraux considered it unfortunate that Nuit was not a one-rider horse.
With Jewitt’s pistol tucked safely in his waistband, North held his pistol easily on both of them as he waited for Jewitt to retrieve their horses. He did not, they noticed, help her to mount. By her movements, they could tell she was an uncertain rider, but determination forged her will. That determination, coupled with her madness made her the more dangerous of the two. Deveraux was thankful she’d handed her pistol to North. Her uncertain temper could spell disaster for Leona and him. He glanced over at Leona. Her face was impassive. Neither fear nor anger resided there. It was an expression that made him very, very nervous.
“We’ll go across the country,” North said. “No sense meeting any locals, eh?” He waved his pistol at them, indicating thatthey should go before him. Leona turned toward a nearby field. North laughed. “No, no. Not that way, Miss Leonard. I ain’t no flat. That’ll take us by the good squire’s property. I scouted this country well before we hired that drafty old pile of yours. I’ll have none of your tricks. We’ll cut acrossthisway.”
Leona turned in the direction he pointed, trying desperately to hide an incipient smile. Mounting excitement gripped her. Heading toward the squire’s was drawing a bow at a chance. That it failed did not perturb her. She had more than one bow in her quiver, though she doubted North or Jewitt would think so. So much the better. They were not overly clever. They were a methodical pair. Any sudden deviation threw them into a tizzy. Well, as that was the case, she would just have to ensure that she kept them in a tizzy, she thought jauntily.
Only one little disquieting thought nagged at her mind. Jewitt was nearly beyond rational thought. Keeping her upended could have unhealthy effects.
Leona glanced at Jewitt. Then the wind whipped her hair into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She dare not let go of the cloak to push it aside. She gathered her cloak up higher to facilitate walking. Her other hand, hidden beneath the cloak, was wrapped reassuringly around the butt of Mr. Tubb’s pocket pistol. She set off purposefully, her mind alert to all possibilities for escape. Watching her, Deveraux groaned silently and set off after her, measuring his pace to hers.
It was the cold, drenching rain that began half an hour later—worse than December’s sleet—that was Leona’s undoing. Her pace slackened as her spirits flagged. The numbing cold rain sapped her strength, and her wet wool cloak and riding habit soon weighed her down. Moving became a struggle. Rivulets flowed from the brim of her dainty riding hat down her face, stinging her chapped cheeks. Her hands froze in their rigid positions around the butt of the pistol and the folds of her cloak.She sneezed, and her thoughts shifted from escape to attaining her dry cottage.
The steady gray rain obscured visibility and mired the fields they crossed. Leona slipped on the slick winter-browned grass, falling to her knees. Deveraux leaped forward to help her rise. Her left hand let go of the cloak as she instinctively-grabbed on onto his arm. He caught a quick glimpse of a pistol clutched in her right hand, her knuckles nearly white about the butt. His eyes flared once, then resumed their narrowed expression. He pulled her cloak tightly about her, gathering it up to be grabbed by her hand again. She threw him a grateful glance as her numb fingers closed around the material.
He studied her face. Her pallor was deathly pale save for the harlequinesque bright red patches on her cheeks. Her eyes appeared more sunken than normal, the skin around them gray. She was tiring, unused to physical exertion under these conditions. He admired her quiet fortitude. Many officers during the rugged peninsular campaigns did nothing but complain! Leona was stoically silent.
With a grim expression, he put his arm around her to help her up the steep slope. Behind them, Jewitt and North snickered. Deveraux didn’t care, his mind turning over the knowledge of Leona’s little gun. He had no doubt his love was bold enough to use it. The problem was he doubted her ability to choose her time wisely, owing to her weakening state. He needed to counsel patience. But how to communicate that?
“How much farther, Miss Leonard?” He kept his voice loud, so North and Jewitt would have no cause for suspicion.
She twitched under his hand, startled to hear his voice. “Another mile, maybe two. It’s much closer cross-country like this, but I’m not certain by how much.”
“Fie on you, Miss Leonard,” North said with a harsh, mocking laugh. He rode closer. “I understood you to bemanaging your brother’s property. Surely, if you were a good manager, you’d know Lion’s Gate’s property boundaries!” The wet saddle leather squeaked as he stood up in his stirrups and looked ahead. “I make them to be just over this ridge and down the other side to the copse of trees that border this field. What do you say to that, Miss Leonard?”
“No doubt you’re right. I’m too tired to say anything.”
“Oh! Did you hear that, Sally? Says she’s too tired.. . . I know just the remedy for that. A nice run down the hill.”
“That’s enough, North,” Deveraux snapped. “She’s near exhaustion and fainting from the cold.”
“Ooooo, listen to the lover defend his lady,” cackled Jewitt. “Just like his brother should have done,” she ended morosely.
“Stubble it, Sal,” North said harshly. He needed her here, not somewhere out of reality.
She made a face at him, then shrugged.
Deveraux squeezed Leona’s right arm just below the shoulder. “Patience, my dear,” he said distinctly.
