“And why were they out here?” Ross said. “And why wouldn’t he be riding in his own coach? He’s a bloody duke.”
Donel did not like the questions. “If he had come home in his coach, I would have used it. But don’t tell me dukes don’t hire chaises. They do.”
“Yes, but why are they out here?”
“I asked the same question,” Donel said. “Hardesty said not to worry. He’d have a story. He wanted them drowned along this road. It is a shortcut to somewhere.”
Willa knew where they were going to be taken. There was a shorter route to Mayfield that did follow two tracks along the River Lea, the same river where they had been fishing earlier. No one would question their being there.
“He always has a story. It’s easier to just break necks. Nice and clean. But it is sad. She is a sweet thing,” Ross said with regret. He sighed. “All right then, what is the plan?”
Willa strained to hear the tale—
Two fingers clasped hers.
She started, thankful she had a gag, or she would have made a sound in surprise. His thumb felt for her ropes. His hands were larger and stronger. He tried to slip his finger under her ropes. They were too tight, but she could slip her free fingers under his. She might be able to free him.
She pulled, while he twisted and yanked on his hand.
Meanwhile, Ross and Donel discussed the “plan.”
“We are going to tip the coach into the Lea? Horse and all? That horse won’t stand for it,” Ross protested.
“We’ll shoot the horse,” Donel answered.
“The hell we will. I’ll not be party to killing a horse. Donel, you can’t ask that of me.”
“And how do we make it appear a coaching accident if the horse is free?”
“He escaped.” Ross spoke as if the answer was simple. “Animals are smart. He freed himself from his traces and swam to shore.”
“He freed himself?”
“It could happen. Listen, that horse is worth money. We sell it, we make a bit more.”
There was a beat of silence. “Aye,” Donel agreed. “You can sell it.”
“I know a man.”
“All right. Fine.”
Willa found one of the knots in Matt’s bindings and, using thumb and index finger, frantically tried to untie it.
“All right, but before we loose the horse, drive the chaise right up to the edge of the bank,” Donel said. “Then you have your horse and we will push the chaise into the river.”
“Are we going to untie them? Won’t look like much of an accident if they are all bound up.”
“I will cut their bonds after they drown. The coach will keep them from floating away until we finish.”
“I’m not going to help you with all that. I don’t fiddle with the bodies. Not after they are dead.”
“You are such a lass,” Donel mocked him.
“I don’t like it.”
“Iknow. You can murder them but you don’t like touching them afterwards. You are a puss—”
There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Of male grunts and half-finished swearing.
